


The Void Between Us

by bardicMutterings



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Met on the Ark Station (The 100), Arranged Marriage, Class Differences, Emotional Intelligence, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Privileged Clarke, The Ark Station, Wells Jaha Lives, minor canonical character death (offscreen and not Wells), or more like political opponents to lovers, rebel Bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24411046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bardicMutterings/pseuds/bardicMutterings
Summary: To save humanity, Clarke is prepared to marry whoever Sydney chooses. But Clarke isn’t prepared to enter her mother’s world of political maneuvering, or to deal with a fiance who’s as gorgeous as he is infuriating.When Bellamy is trapped into accepting a political marriage, he worries it will force him to abandon Octavia. But he has a plan: he’ll provoke his new fiancee into breaking it off. Any daughter of Abigail Griffin is no doubt a spoiled princess, so how hard could it be?
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Octavia Blake, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Wells Jaha/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 116
Kudos: 384





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to binjali for betaing!

When Clarke got home, she was shocked to find her mother sitting at their kitchen table. Between her job as the Chief Medical Officer and her place on the Council, her mother barely came back to their compartment to sleep, much less have family meals. The last week had been especially busy, what with all the people angry at the Council. Now she wasn’t even holding a work tablet. The table’s surface was clear but for a teapot and two cups.

“Clarke.” Her mother smiled. “Sit down with me.”

“Don’t you have work?” Clarke didn’t sound as delighted as she should have, but something about this was just wrong, as though her mother was sitting on the ceiling and pouring tea upside down.

“Nothing more important than spending time with my daughter.”

Well _that_ was suspicious. But Clarke wasn’t going to learn what this was about by being standoffish. She pulled up a chair and sat down, inhaling jasmine steam as her mother filled their cups. 

“Has the Council averted the latest crisis?” Clarke asked innocently.

“Not yet. But we have a way forward, which seemed impossible only this morning. Baby steps.” Her mother swirled the tea in her cup. 

Clark resisted prodding her further. Whatever this was about, it clearly had to come out on its own.

“Did you know that after the original Unity Day, even with all those stations coming together, there wasn’t a big fight over what government we should have?” Her mother leaned back in her chair, her shoulders sagging. “The biggest threat to humanity was radiation. It wasn’t each other.”

“That was the generation with the arranged marriages, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.” She perked up again. “Choosing breeding partners for everyone increased our radiation immunity, but it was draconic, of course. As soon as the population was resistant enough, the practice was discontinued.”

“That’s fascinating.” Clarke’s brows creased. “I guess. Why the interest in history?”

“The Council’s been reviewing demographic data. We think the twelve stations didn’t fight because the radiation program mixed the population. Since we’ve been choosing partners for ourselves, each generation has segregated itself further.” Her mother sighed. “Now it’s _our_ people, and _their_ people, and in between… empty space.”

Clarke couldn’t take it anymore. “Is this about the sabotage?”

Her mother looked at her sharply. “What have you heard about that?”

“Not much, just that people on Mir station are pissed. They’re saying the Council fixed the sabotaged mill on Alpha so we can have our pastry flour, when Mir’s primary water recycler is still broken.”

Her mother let out a frustrated sigh. “That’s Sydney’s doing. She’s _still_ claiming the election was rigged in Jaha’s favor, despite the evidence. And the sabotage… it was just a mill, but it had the opposition’s mark right on it, everyone saw. We couldn’t let that stand, and the damage was trivial, so we fixed it. Now she’s using _that_ against us, of all things.”

“Couldn’t you just fix the water recycler too?”

“That’s a much bigger problem, the pipes are all oxidized.” She rubbed her temple.

The strange smiling mother was gone, replaced by the familiar one with thin lips and tired eyes. Clarke reached out and took her mother’s hand. “I’m sorry, Mom. I know you’re doing your best.”

“My best hasn’t been enough. The opposition is making demands, and too many people are with them. If we give in, it’ll set a terrible precedent. But the Council must do _something_.” Her mother drew in a breath. “Which brings me back to what I was saying.”

“What you were saying... about radiation?”

“About the solution to radiation, and to political divisions, it turns out.”

“You _can’t_ be thinking of arranging marriages.”

“Just a few strategic ones to start. If it goes well, perhaps more. We have to give people a sense of social mobility.” Her brown eyes met Clarke’s. “That's where you come in.”

Clarke yanked her hand back. “You want to put _me_ in an arranged marriage?!”

“It wouldn’t have to be forever,” Her mother’s words rushed out. “We'd need you to cohabitate for some years, and have a kid with your partner. Once the families are mixed together... you could probably get divorced without causing problems.”

Clarke pushed away from the table and stood up. Her mother had always been ruthless when it came to the Ark’s welfare, but this... “I can't believe you’re using my life as a tool in your negotiations.” 

“It's completely your choice, Clarke. You won't be forced into anything.” 

“Who would I even be married to?”

Her mother gripped her cup. “I don’t know.”

“You _don’t know?”_

“If you're willing we'll make the offer, but it'll up to the opposition to choose who marries you. Our sources tell us their organization is complex and factional, and we don’t know who all the leaders are. It's impossible to tell who they'd pick.”

Clarke crossed her arms. “Sounds like a great deal. Why wouldn't I want to do that?”

“Clarke…” Her mother’s brows drew together. “I have to tell you something important, something you can’t tell anyone else - not under any circumstances.” 

“You mean there’s something _else?_ ” Clarke drew in a breath, and let out slowly. “I’m sorry. I won’t tell, I promise.”

“A week ago, your father discovered that key systems are failing. I can't give you the details, but it's not good. On its own, this mechanical failure might cost lives, perhaps _many_ lives. With our facilities already stretched to breaking, and more sabotage to come ... this conflict could kill everyone on the Ark.”

Clarke sucked in a breath. Her father had been working overtime all week, but she had assumed it was the water recycler. But the look on his face when he came home… “It’s that bad?”

Her mother nodded. “We _have to_ deescalate this, but we can’t afford to encourage the opposition, not when we have some very bad news coming.”

Clarke sat back down, not meeting her mother’s gaze. She took her warm teacup in her hands and sipped it slowly. Jasmine wasn’t a common commodity on the Ark. She had always taken it for granted, but many families had never tried it - they couldn’t afford to. By the standards of any station, Clarke was living a comfortable life. And if humanity was to make it back to the ground someday, everyone had to make sacrifices. Maybe it was Clarke’s turn. 

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

* * *

Bellamy slowed down as he heard a couple people in the corridor up ahead. They were only a few feet from his destination - they might see too much. _Come on, clear out,_ he thought, but they kept chatting in their stained work suits. He delayed, squatting down to futz with his shoe as though a stone had been poking him, but it was no good. Maybe they were waiting for someone. He could leave and come back later, but he was already late enough to get yelled at. He’d have to go in with them standing there.

He stopped in front of door 20391 and knocked. “Mom?” His mom was out fitting someone, of course, but Octavia would hear him say it, and know to get out of sight. It was a good system when they needed it, except it occasionally left him to explain why he was timidly knocking on the door of his own home.

He counted to five, and then he opened the door just enough to slip in.

Octavia was right behind the door, which thankfully didn’t make him jump anymore. Her arms were crossed and her finger was tapping impatiently on her arm. He closed the door.

“You’re late,” she hissed. “You promised you’d get back on time.”

“I promised I’d _try_. You know how the Skybox is.”

“Fortunately, I don’t.” She stomped over to the work table.

“O, you know I didn’t mean - ” he sighed. It was hard working at the Skybox without dwelling on how if Octavia’s existence was discovered, they’d lock her up there, probably right after they floated Bellamy and their mother. “All I meant was that it can get chaotic. Murphy managed to get his hands on another knife, right before my shift was supposed to end.” 

Octavia just snorted and sat down. The work table in front of her was already cleared off, and their game of chess was waiting. Of course, it wasn’t a real chess set. He’d scratched the lines of the board into the table years ago, and they’d found various bits to stand in for the pieces. Their rooks were little metal washers, their bishops buttons, and the knights little balls of cloth. They’d memorized it long ago.

Bellamy started to take off his guard’s uniform, but Octavia protested. “Oh come on, do that when it’s not your turn.”

“As though that’ll be longer than two seconds.”

“Try harder, and maybe I’ll have to think for once.”

Bellamy gave up and sat down. Around last year, Octavia had started beating him soundly. He suspected she’d managed to practice by herself in the long hours when he and their mother were off working, and she was stuck in this cage alone. Maybe if he was promoted, he could at least get her a bigger cage. 

They were about ten moves in when there was a crisp knock on the door. Then two more.

“You’re not home,” Octavia whispered.

Bellamy held his hand up for silence and listened. Another knock. He stood up.

“Bell - ”

“That’s the opposition, I _have_ to get it.”

Instead of hiding beneath the floor, Octavia just lifted her chin and stayed where she was. She could be frustratingly stubborn for someone whose life was on the line. 

“Be right there,” Bellamy called out. Now they knew he was home, and she had to move.

Octavia’s jaw dropped in indignation. She got up and placed herself behind the door, glaring at him. That would have to do.

Bellamy cracked the door open. He saw the broad shoulders and smooth bronze skin of Anthony York, dressed in his factory uniform. 

“Hey Bellamy,” Anthony said. “You just get off work?”

“Yeah.” At this point, Bellamy was supposed to bring him inside where they were less likely to be overheard, but apparently today was not his day to do things the easy way. “Sorry, you caught me in the middle of something.”

Anthony nodded. “It’s fine. I just thought maybe you’d like to join me and a couple friends for a drink or two. No rush, I gotta go pick up some produce at the market first. But maybe after?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Bellamy did not like it at all. But Anthony had just handed him an urgent summons, and he couldn’t say no.

“Great, see you later.” Anthony walked off.

Bellamy closed the door and turned to his kid sister, though she wasn’t a kid anymore. “I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

“This _was_ the make up, Bell.”

“You know I’m doing this for you, right?”

“Right,” Octavia said sarcastically, “for me.” She went to the lower bed and burrowed under the covers to sulk.

Bellamy wished he could stay and beg for her forgiveness, maybe read one of their favorite books with her, but he had to get changed to go.

* * *

Bellamy was in the so-called root cellar fifteen minutes later, dressed in plain clothes. The room was dark, but as his eyes adjusted, the occupants became recognizable. Anthony York stood at the center of the group, their social butterfly. Raven Reyes leaned against a back wall. Bellamy didn’t know Raven that well, but sometimes they scratched a mutual itch. Sydney was up in front, under the sole streak of light from the ceiling. She always positioned herself just right. 

The other six cell leaders were also waiting. This was a full leadership meeting - that was incredibly risky. Sydney only called for it when an important decision had to be made fast. That implied a dire situation, but she was as poised as ever.

“The man of the hour,” Sydney said as he approached. Then she turned to the room. “Blake’s hotheads are why we’re here. His team executed Operation _Grind Down_ perfectly. That mill looked like it’d been torn to shreds, but it only took two mechanics an hour to fix. Not to mention that no one missed our emblem. It was the perfect bait.”

Clapping was too noisy for the opposition, but several people reached out to give Bellamy a slap on the back, and a couple others nodded in his direction.

“The Council took that bait,” Sydney continued, “and the rest of you spread the word. Because of you, people are with us. York’s team found us five new recruits in the last 24 hours.”

Bellamy leaned over to give Anthony a friendly handshake. Anthony smiled.

“Now the Council’s on our hook, squirming. And they’ve suggested a solution to our standoff that’s… unconventional. They want to arrange a few political marriages between us and them.”

Laughter rolled through the room before it was quickly stifled.

“Seriously?” Raven asked.

“They’re serious alright.” Sydney replied. “And I think we should consider it.”

“Like hell,” Bellamy said. Sydney had called a full leadership meeting for this? It wasn’t even urgent. “They just don’t want to give us something real.” 

A murmur of agreement came from the others.

“That’s what I thought too,” Syndey said. “Then they told me who they’re offering in marriage: Wells Jaha and Clarke Griffin.”

Everyone stopped chatting to stare at her.

“Their own precious kids?” Bellamy asked. That wasn’t like the Council. The sacrifices they demanded always fell on other people. That’s what the opposition fought to change. 

“That’s right.” Sydney smiled. “Not only that, but whoever marries them gets to live high and mighty in Alpha Station. The way I figure it, we have time. We use these marriages to get closer to the center of power on the Ark, and then turn up the heat again when we’re ready.” 

Sydney stepped out of the spotlight to approach them in turn. “York, wouldn’t you like to do more recruiting on Alpha Station, maybe get some of their people to sympathize with us?”

“You know I would,” Anthony answered.

Sydney put an arm across Raven’s shoulders. “Wouldn’t you like to place some bugs on the Council’s closest kin, hear what they talk about?”

“It’s not a home run…” Raven paused, and then nodded, “but yeah.”

Sydney let Raven go. Then she stepped in front of Bellamy, meeting his eyes. “Imagine your team slipping in and out of Alpha Station on the regular. Think of how many parts they could reclaim for those who _really_ need them.”

Bellamy had to consider that. Getting enough cell members into Alpha Station during curfew to tear apart a small mill had been a major endeavour. The cooperation of a resident would make it simple, even a resident under suspicion. Plus, he’d bet the Council’s people were hoarding things in Alpha Station, things they didn’t want everyone to know about. “You’re right. It’s a good idea.”

“Excellent.” Sydney moved back to the front of the room. “So is everyone on board?”

“Aye,” they all called back.

“That’s settled then. As for the details, the Council expects a child from each of these marriages, but as long as that’s possible, they’ll take any partner we choose. Given that, the best choices are pretty obvious. York will get hitched to Jaha junior - ”

“I’m ready to push one out for the opposition,” Anthony joked. The others chuckled.

“And Blake will take Griffin. We’ll need to - “

“ _What?_ ” Bellamy said.

Sydney put a hand on her hip. “Blake, you just agreed to this plan because it will benefit your team. I have trouble believing that you, of all people, would expect someone else to pay the cost of that.”

The room fell silent as Bellamy’s stomach dropped. There was no greater taboo among the opposition. “Of course I wouldn’t,” Bellamy managed. “But when I agreed, I naturally assumed we’d ask for volunteers.”

“Naturally,” Sydney threw him a bone. “But not anyone can take this job. We need people who can be trusted not to flip, people respected by the whole opposition, and by Council mandate, people with the right parts to make a baby with the royal kids, and who don't already have a child. That only leaves a few people who could marry Griffin, and of those, you're highest in leadership. Not to mention, the best looking. Can't hurt to get your new wife wrapped around your finger.”

The group had a quiet laugh and a few jokes at that, and Bellamy smiled with them, trying to delay long enough to resolve the battle in his head. Octavia hated her confinement, and she already spent too much of it alone. He had joined the opposition to make things better for her, how could he abandon her by getting married? And this marriage would put him under a microscope, endangering her further. But he had just agreed to these political marriages in front of the whole leadership. He couldn’t tell anyone why he didn’t want to get married, and if he switched tunes now, he’d be hung out to dry.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me.” Bellamy said. He would find a way out of it later.

Sydney grinned, revealing white teeth. “As I was saying, the Council doesn’t know that either of you are involved with us, and we’ll want to keep it that way until they can’t back out. Just in case this is a trick.”

“Some trick,” Anthony said.

“Can’t be too cautious. Speaking of which, I think we’re done here.”

The leaders shook hands and began trickling out, carefully checking the surroundings to avoid being seen.

Anthony pulled Bellamy aside and spoke in a low voice. “She talked to me first. She didn’t talk to you?”

“She did not,” Bellamy said through clenched teeth.

“Trapped you, huh?”

“Looks like.”

“Sorry, man.” Anthony put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve seen Clarke Griffin though, she’s cute. I mean, if you like women, which you’ve been known to. Frequently.”

Bellamy glared at him. “I sleep around, I don’t… make commitments.” Sydney must have known that, or she would have approached him like she approached Anthony. Instead, she called an entire leadership meeting just to manipulate him into this.

“Sorry.” Anthony gave Bellamy a last pat and moved on.

Sydney was casually leaning against the wall, watching the others leave. Bellamy wanted to tear her limb from limb for tricking him and endangering Octavia. He had to put that aside. With the show they’d just put on for leadership, the only way he’d get out of this was with Sydney’s blessing. She clearly wanted him on Alpha Station, what would she want more?

He waited for the others to clear out and then approached her. “I assume they’re not forcing their kids to do this by law.”

Sydney shifted to face him. “No, that would be in the public record.”

“So the kids are volunteers. But a high class girl like Clarke Griffin can't be used to making these kinds of sacrifices. What if she backed out?”

“After the engagement was announced?”

“That’s right.”

“The Council’s looking to sell the whole thing as a sign of their graciousness, to calm people down. If their kids broke it off after all those speeches... it would look bad. We’d say those spoiled brats think they’re better than us, or that their parents never meant to go through with it. So soon after the mill scandal, the backlash would be intense.” Sydney grinned. “They’d have to give us something real. Something big.”

“Is this the new plan? In that case, you might want to choose someone ugly for Griffin.”

“Oh no.” She leaned in and straightened Bellamy’s jacket. “In that case, we need to look like we’re trying. You’ll just have to be obnoxious enough to piss her off.”

Bellamy smirked. “That’s my middle name.”

* * *

Clarke clung to Wells’ elbow, her heart pounding under her blue satin dress. “The announcement is fifteen minutes away. Why haven’t they told us who we’re marrying?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure we’re going to find out before the rest of the Ark does.” Wells replied as he fidgeted with his tie for what must have been the hundredth time. 

“I’m sure your father’s grand speech will benefit from the look of shock on our faces.”

“Don’t have to tell _me_.”

Clarke had spent the whole engagement party clinging to Wells, as though if she just stuck to him long enough, maybe she’d end up with him instead of a stranger. Knowing that she and Wells could never be an item left her a little heartbroken. Not that they’d ever been passionate about each other, but she’d felt safe knowing they _could_ marry.

And even as she’d been forced to smile and make small talk with everyone, she couldn’t help noticing how many happy couples there were. By the snack table, a pair of women proudly showed off their new baby. Straight ahead, an elderly man gently stroked his wife’s hand as he talked. In the seats along the back wall, a pair of chiseled young men huddled close together, chatting and laughing. All these people fell in love and chose to be together. That was something Clarke couldn’t have now. Her political marriage would be awkward at best, unbearable at worst.

“Are you two ready?” Chancellor Jaha stopped beside his son.

“How can we be ready?” Clarke asked. “You haven’t told us who our partners are.”

“I haven’t told you because I don’t know. The opposition is worried we’ll use the information to identify two of their leaders and then never announce the engagement.”

“And what, tell everyone here you were just kidding?”

“Maybe he’ll tell everyone _we’re_ getting married.” Wells smiled at Clarke.

Clarke smiled back but then looked away. She wanted that too much right now.

“Rest assured I can’t make the announcement without the names I’ll be announcing,” Jaha said. “So you’ll find out soon enough.”

Clarke and Wells had already waded through oceans of people they barely recognized, but now that the Chancellor was standing with them, a line started to form. She shook the hands of the elderly couple she’d seen earlier, then her father’s friends, and then someone who worked for her mother. Whenever someone asked her who her lucky partner was, Clarke wore her Mona Lisa smile. It seemed to do the trick, but each time she felt angrier. Who did those damn people think they were, leaving her hanging? Her future spouse was probably the most self-absorbed person on the Ark. And old and ugly too. She just knew it.

The chiseled young men from the back of the room walked up next, still holding hands. That’s all she needed right now, small talk with a beautiful, happy couple. _Go away,_ Clarke thought. 

Their hands dropped, and the shorter and more broad-shouldered of the two men passed Chancellor Jaha an envelope. 

“Clarke Griffin?” The tall one stood nearby, his dark eyes locked on her.

“Who else?” Crap, that was rude. She struggled to put on her happy face. “Sorry, yes. It’s nice to meet you …?” 

“I’m Bellamy Blake.” He took her hand and kissed it. “I’ll be your ball and chain this evening.”

Clarke’s jaw dropped before she could stop it. The guys weren’t a couple? No, of course not, they’d obviously pretended so they could chill at the party without suspicion. It wasn’t that different from what she and Wells had been doing.

“Oh. Umm… hi,” Clarke managed. It was the best she could do while absorbing the shock. Bellamy Blake was gorgeous. His black hair curled around his straight brows and crisp cheekbones. His dress shirt was just tight enough to give away the muscles underneath. But weirdly, it was the freckles that left her struggling to speak. Without them, he could be a model in some old Earth catalogue, something manufactured and sold. The spray of freckles made him real, a breathing person with quirks and flaws. A person who was going to be hers.

“Ouch,” Wells said. “Clarke, you can let go of my arm now.” 

Heat rose in Clarke’s cheeks as she loosened her death grip on Wells. He had his own hot guy, and once freed, Wells eagerly put both his hands in his partner’s. Without her best friend to brace her, Clarke felt unsteady.

Bellamy smiled and offered her his elbow. “Squeeze as hard as you want. I won’t mind.”

Blushing even harder, Clarke gently took his arm. 

In what could have been a few seconds or a few hours after that, Chancellor Jaha grabbed a mic and made a grandiose speech. Then her mother made one. Clarke didn’t hear a word. Instead, she was hyper aware of the heat along her side as Bellamy stood next to her. She felt it when he shifted his weight and heard it when he let out a quick breath. Her hand prickled with the effort of staying perfectly still on his arm, because any movement could only reveal that she was paying it super close attention, and yet, staying perfectly still had to be weird too, didn’t it?

Finally the speeches were done and the crowd began to break up. Clarke drew in a breath and turned to Bellamy for what she was supposed to do next. “How would you like a tour of Alpha Station? Since it will be your new home.”

His dark eyes danced. “You read my mind.”

Clarke steered him gently toward the door. She was going to give Bellamy a nice tour of the station’s amenities. She wasn’t going to search for dark corners where they might make out. Definitely not.


	2. Chapter 2

The line for the checkpoint into Alpha Station went down the corridor, but Clarke caught the eye of the old guard running IDs. He was one of their many family friends on Alpha, he’d even babysitted her a time or two. On seeing her, he smiled and waved them past the gate.

Once they were out of earshot, Bellamy said, “I look forward to being above the rules once I move in.”

“What?” Clarke glanced back at the checkpoint guard, who was back to scanning IDs. “It’s not like that, he just knows me.”

“So he lets you come in without recording your entry?”

“Well, yes but…” she’d never thought about it that way. “That’s not - ”

“Hey, I’ve got no complaints.” He stopped walking and leaned in toward her, almost close enough to kiss. “You and me, we’ll do whatever the hell we want.”

“Sure. Right before we get floated.” 

“Don’t worry. Just think: you’ve been violating the rules without even knowing it. What could you do if you tried?”

Was he serious? They’d only just met and he was talking about breaking the law. But he was from the opposition, didn’t they break the law all the time? What had she signed up for? Clarke pushed him away. “I am _not_ going to abuse my power.”

“Okay, I hear you.” Bellamy raised his hands in surrender. “Since you’re so straight and narrow, we’ll go back out and get in line.”

“I didn’t mean - ” 

It was too late, Bellamy was already heading out the checkpoint. Clarke groaned and followed him out. Fine. If she had to wait in line for twenty minutes just to prove to him that they wouldn’t be going on illegal capers together, that’s what she’d do.

Clarke placed herself a few steps behind Bellamy, arms crossed, trying not to stare at his perfectly formed backside. They were silent throughout the whole wait. That is, except for Bellamy quietly whistling the Unity Day song, off-key. If he couldn’t whistle in tune, why whistle? Now it was stuck in her head.

The guard was confused when they came through the entry again, but Clarke just smiled and handed him her ID card. He shrugged and ran it.

On the other side of the entry, Bellamy offered her his elbow. Clarke gritted her teeth, but took it. She was going to marry him, she couldn’t let her frustration put them on bad terms. 

Once they were arm-in-arm again, Bellamy gave her a flirtatious wink. Her stomach fluttered. She didn’t want it to do that. The unrepentant wink should have made her angry, frustrated, or at least a little more annoyed. Apparently all it took was a hottie winking at her, and she’d forget he was trying to seduce her into getting floated. Perfect.

Luckily, a distraction was close by. Despite being the center of leadership on the Ark, Alpha station had the same bare metal walls and hard features as everywhere else. But what was inside the station was another matter. After a short hallway, they entered the Alpha Station Market. 

“The Market is the pride and joy of Alpha,” she told Bellamy. “It has the same basics as the others, but it’s the best place to trade in books, herbs, or tea. Also, newly recycled clothing. This is where I got my dress.”

He quickly glanced over her blue satin dress, but didn’t compliment it. Clarke pushed her disappointment away. Instead, Bellamy looked across the stalls with their shelves of refurbished electronics and racks of recovered silks. 

“It looks perfect for a princess like yourself,” he said. Was he joking? One corner of his mouth was turned up slightly. Then it grew into a smirk. 

“I’m _not_ a princess,” Clarke said. “And it’s not my personal market, lots of people shop here.”

“If you say so, Princess.” Bellamy wasn’t smirking anymore, but there was a dimple in one freckled cheek - a hint of a smirk still there, lurking. “What would you like me to try on first?”

“Try on… you mean clothes?”

“I assumed you wouldn’t want me to embarass you by wearing clothes from Factory Station. Besides, you’ll want your trophy husband to look his best.”

Joking or not, Clarke couldn’t let that stand. She released his elbow and turned to face him, ignoring the laughter in his eyes. “Bellamy, I’m not embarrassed to be with someone from Factory Station. And you’re not some trophy husband.”

“Come on, let’s not pretend.” He put his hands in his pockets and leaned in, his lashes reflecting in the shine of his eyes. “Do you really think I was chosen for my brains?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t choose you.”

“You didn’t complain though, did you?”

“I still might.” She crossed her arms.

His smirk returned. “As if you haven’t been drooling over me like I’m a rare steak.” 

Clarke’s face grew hot. She _had_ been checking him out. Had it been that obvious?

“Admit it, you’re totally hot for me.” He flexed an arm. Even under his dress shirt, those muscles looked good. 

Her heart sped up. “So? We’re getting married.” 

He smiled as he stepped closer. “It matters because you’re pretending this is about respect, but what you _really_ want is for us to do the horizontal tango.”

“No, I - ” She couldn’t take this anymore. “I’m heading to the bathroom.”

His brows lifted. “Do you want to sneak me in or should I just follow in a few minutes?”

“No! Stay _here_.” Clarke practically ran from him.

“At your pleasure,” he called lightly after her.

Clarke shut herself in a stall and sagged against the wall. Now she’d just stay here for the rest of her life, so she never had to face Bellamy Blake again. His jibes would be easier to deal with if he hadn’t been so on the nose about her checking him out, and thinking about… other things. Ug. She was actually wishing her fiance _wasn’t_ hot. 

How had he turned attraction into a bad thing? They were going to get married, she was supposed to be into him! And it wasn’t like she arranged this marriage herself, it had been foisted on her. Whereas he and his - wait a second. She’d assumed that Bellamy was an opposition leader, someone who’d accepted the marriage. But he’d said _Do you really think I was chosen for my brains?_ He was chosen. He wasn’t the chooser.

Maybe he’d been lying, but if he resented the marriage and was taking it out on her, it at least gave her some understanding of why he was being such a jerk. She could work with that. She would make this work. So what if she ran from her finance after knowing him for only an hour? She wasn’t ready to give up, not by a long shot.

Besides, other people needed to use the bathroom.

Clarke left the stall and took a moment in front of the bathroom mirror, if only to reassure herself that she was, in fact, a young woman and not some crone trying to mail order a hot young thing. Then she took a deep breath and cautiously made her way back to the market. She moved along the wall behind the stalls, hoping to find Bellamy before he spotted her. Facing him would be hard enough without him surprising her, and she wanted to know whether he smirked at everyone, or if he did it just for her.

* * *

Bellamy watched the councillor’s daughter run away into the crowd. Well, that was a bigger reaction than he’d expected. The jibes about her being into him was supposed to convince her that he was arrogant and insufferable, to frustrate and repulse her. Instead, Clarke Griffin was embarrassed. She must have _actually_ been checking him out. 

He felt a little guilty, okay, more than a little guilty about making her flee in shame. But how was he supposed to know that his remarks would hit home? Even during their leisurely tour, the youngest Griffin had an air of determination. She was clearly not someone who let loose easily. If she’d really been admiring the wares on offer, she must have been pretty covert about it. It was hard not to feel flattered…

He let out a breath. He was supposed to be planning their breakup, not basking in Clarke Griffin’s unlikely affection. Her sudden departure could only mean he was on the right path to getting her to call a halt. He just had to keep going. When he felt bad, he’d imagine his little sister in their compartment, alone all the time. Besides, breaking off the marriage was the best thing for Clarke too. She was only a little older than Octavia. It was wrong of her mother to put her in this position. 

Bellamy looked around the busy market. How long before his would-be fiancee returned? Was she returning? Maybe if Bellamy was lucky, she’d had enough already. In any case, while he was here he’d see what he might find for Octavia, something to make up for all the hours he was spending away on this marriage business.

* * *

Clarke expected Bellamy to be standing in the thruway with a bored look on his face, but instead he was browsing a stall. From what glimpses she got of his face, he seemed serious, sad even. He was buying something - something with red beads, a necklace or a bracelet. Was it too much to hope that he felt bad about scaring her off, and he was getting her a gift to make up for it? He flashed the seller a winning smile and put the jewelry in his pocket. 

It was time for Clarke to make her grand re-entrance. She stepped into the thruway, looking around as if she hadn’t spotted Bellamy yet.

He wasted no time in stepping into view. “Did you have a good time away, Princess?” he said innocently.

“It was _just_ a bathroom break, Bellamy.” Oh no, she’d already snapped at him. “Sorry.”

He shrugged. 

Clarke waited. This was the moment for him to apologize and give her the jewelry. Any moment now. 

Bellamy just stood there.

Clarke sighed. “I think we’re done in the market.”

“Sure, but I’d like a pastry first.” He smirked. “I heard they’re so good, the Council will let workers go without water so they can keep eating them.”

“That is _not_ what happened!” Several people around them gave Clarke a startled look. She lowered her voice. “The water recycler on Mir has extensive damage, they have to refabricate all the piping. The flour mill was fixed quickly because it was easy to fix. As it turns out, your saboteurs are bad at their jobs.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

“It is.”

“Well, Princess, I wouldn’t dare doubt your word.” He gestured to his abs. “And I can't afford to ruin my figure with pastries anyway, since it's my ticket to high class life.”

“Oh shut up.” Clarke rolled her eyes. 

He nodded. “I understand. I should be seen and not heard.”

Clarke just grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the market. He raised his eyebrows again but came without protest. Where could she go next that would be less contentious than the market? The Library. That would remind him of what they had in common: a shared heritage from the ground and a duty to preserve that heritage.

The Library wouldn’t have impressed anyone back on Earth, but it was big for a compartment, and it was covered in shelves holding the largest collection of old Earth media on the Ark. The old books, paintings, magazines, and DVDs were too precious to check out, but anyone on the Ark could come here and enjoy them. In the center of the room were a few small tables with video players and a few chairs. It was still during the workday, so no one other than the attendant at the door was around.

Clarke let go of Bellamy to look over the media. Maybe there was a movie they could watch together? Would that help them bond, or would she be subjected to a movie’s worth of taunting? She’d scanned through the whole movie collection before she realized Bellamy hadn’t made a sound since they entered. He was bent down over a shelf of books, gently pulling a few out to view their covers before tucking them in again. 

She made her way over. “What’s your favorite book?”

“Not this one, too dull.” He straightened and showed her the cover of a book called War and Peace. Then he placed it on a nearby shelf without bending back down.

“That’s not the right shelf.”

He winked at her. “It’s a better one, don’t you think? Trust me, kids that short won’t want to read this.”

Clarke put her hands on her hips. “The books are in alphabetical order. You can’t just put them wherever you want.”

“No problem, I’ll put it back.” He grabbed a book off the higher shelf - a different book - and bent down to put it on the lower one.

“That’s not the right book.”

“Oops, sorry.” He took the wrong book back off the lower shelf.

“What are you... stop!” Clarke snatched the book from him and replaced it herself. 

He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re used to everything being under your control, aren’t you Princess?”

“People will be looking for these books. They’ll think they’ve been stolen.”

“Have you read War and Peace? I’m doing them a favor.” Bellamy reached for another book.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Clarke grabbed both of his hands with hers. 

Bellamy stilled, holding her hands in his. He kept his chin down, looking at her through his eyelashes, a slight dimple giving away that he was suppressing another smirk. What was she supposed to do with him? Wherever she brought him, he made trouble. What if they just made out? Would that keep him occupied? Dammit, that was not what she should be thinking.

Bellamy waggled his eyebrows at her, and Clarke yanked her hands away. She drew a breath to calm herself. She wasn’t going to run to the bathroom again. She would deal with this.

“Look,” Clarke said. “I know you didn’t choose this marriage for yourself, and I’m sorry. It wasn’t my choice either. I’m just trying to make the best of it.”

He leaned back against a shelf. “I know, your mother pimped you out.”

“What? No, that’s not fair.”

“You’re right, this isn’t fair to _you_.” For once, Bellamy looked completely serious. “Forcing her daughter to have sex with a random stranger and then raise a child with them? And you’re what, barely eighteen? All so she can accomplish her own agenda. Sorry Princess, but that sounds like pimping to me.”

“She didn’t force me to do anything. She told me this was an emergency and that I could help. I agreed.”

“So what you’re saying…” he put a thoughtful finger to his lip, “is that this _was_ your choice.”

Clarke’s shoulders sagged. While she’d been trying to connect with him, he’d been laying a verbal trap. And she walked right into it. Why did she even bother?

“It’s okay, Princess. I know I’m irresistibly sexy, you can’t help but choose me. So what’s the next stop on your tour? Someplace hot, so I’ll take my shirt off?”

“No, I’m done.”

“Done?” He straightened.

“I think it’s time for you to show me where you live, so _I_ can make fun of _your_ efforts.” 

“You want a tour of Factory Station? That’s no place for a princess, you’ll sully your nice shoes.”

“This is my engagement party getup, not what I wear everyday.” Clarke poked him in the chest with a finger. “You’re taking me there tomorrow.”

He shrugged. “Your wish is my command.”

Clarke let out a breath. Maybe if she was lucky, he would show her something that was actually meaningful to him. If she was lucky.

* * *

For the first time, Clarke was fretting over an outfit composed of a threadbare top, sweatpants, and a pair of worn sneakers. She wanted to dress down for her tour of Factory Station. Hopefully that would show Bellamy she didn’t wear expensive things all the time. But what if she dressed down too much, and he took it as an insult? She’d been through Factory Station on her way to other places, but never spent much time there. What did they wear? In the end, Clarke traded out her sweatpants for a pair of tight jeans, subtly patched at the knees. Bellamy would probably be obnoxious regardless of what she put on, but maybe with this, she’d catch _him_ looking at _her_ ass, and then she could tease _him_ relentlessly.

Bellamy met her at the nearest entrance to his home station. His hair was combed neatly back and he was wearing a guard’s uniform. He was a guard of all things? How many other members of the guard were in the opposition? It was a scary thought, but... her job was to help dissuade them from causing trouble. And she had to admit the black getup looked good on him. 

He smiled and held out his elbow.

“I’ll take your elbow when you actually want me on it.”

Bellamy shrugged. “Have it your way. Come on, I’ve got a lot to show you before I start my shift.”

He led her down a side corridor, and soon the air was filled with banging, screeching, and thrumming. Clarke put her hands over her ears. “What is that?”

Bellamy pointed to one of his ears, which had an earplug. _Can’t hear you,_ he mouthed. He motioned her to continue following him. As they went, workers in protective gear came in and out the doors and walked down the hallway with them. This had to be a gateway to one of the factories. She wished she had her own earplugs. 

Finally they got to a stairway where the noise wasn’t so unbearable. Sighing in relief, Clarke took her hands off her ears and took hold of the railing.

Bellamy glanced back at her as they climbed. “You don’t want to put your hand there.”

“On a railing? That’s what it’s for.”

“Suit yourself, princess.”

That didn’t bode well. Clarke took her hand off, though they’d almost reached the next level. At the top of the stairs, she said, “what’s wrong with the railing?”

Bellamy jerked his head toward her hand.

Every inch of skin that had touched the railing was black with soot. “Is this from that factory?”

Bellamy took out his earplugs. “We call it grime. It’s a mix of dust, soot, rust, and ash that the workers track around. Ends up everywhere. If you want to keep your laundry clean here, you gotta keep it from touching anything.”

“Well, now I need to wash my hands.”

“No problem, princess, I’ll just escort you all the way back to the station entrance. There’s a public shower room there, though you’ll have to wait for a while. That is, unless you know someone who will let you cut in line again.”

Clarke sighed. “You could just tell me it’s too far.” 

“How would a factory boy know what’s too far for a princess?” Bellamy put his earplugs back in and turned to continue on. 

Clarke wiped her hand on her jeans. It left an almost perfect hand print, and her hand was still black. Wonderful.

The hallway they were walking down was straight and narrow, with rows of numbered doors on either side. They were personal compartments. But there was still so much banging and clashing from the factory, how many people had to live next to that? Did it at least quiet down during the night shift? She could ask Bellamy, but even if he took his earplugs out, he would probably just dig into her for not knowing.

They turned and went down another corridor, then another, and then another. Was he actually leading her somewhere or was he just wasting her time? The hallways got quieter and then louder again - it was the buzzing of a drill this time.

The temperature was hot in some places and cold in others. Finally they entered a corridor where their breath fogged the air. That was definitely not supposed to happen. 

“Bellamy?” Clarke asked. 

He didn’t respond.

“Bellamy!” Clarke reached out and tugged on his arm.

He looked back at her and removed an ear plug. “What?”

“This hallway is freezing!”

“Yeah?”

“So has it been reported to engineering?”

Bellamy stepped into the junction at the end of the hall, and then leaned casually against the doorway, looking back at her. “You think that with all the people living and working here, no one has reported the chill to engineering?”

Clarke stopped. “No, I don’t. Sorry. But where are we going?”

“Going? You said you wanted a tour of Factory Station. This is it.”

“Yes, we’re in the station, but this route hasn’t been full of highlights. Don’t you want to show me where you gather or something?”

“In Factory?” He smirked. “Princess, there are no gathering places other than the showers and the factories themselves. Also, can you still walk?”

“Still _walk?_ Of course I can - ” Clarke tried to lift a foot, but her shoe was stuck to the floor. “What is this?”

“When the temperature gets too low, the condensation gathers just up the corridor. If you step in it and then stop here too long… you get frozen in place.”

“So how do you get free?”

“Well, we _used_ to have a tin of antifreeze slurry that would thaw our shoes in a couple minutes. But the Council banned that last year. It’s a waste of resources, apparently. Since most of us can’t risk ripping the soles off our shoes, now we just wait until the heat finally comes back on and thaws us out. It’s on a half hour cycle, so that takes anywhere from a minute to a half hour.”

“A half hour? Just standing here?”

“Well, since you’re a princess, you have another option.” Bellamy knelt down at the junction and spread his arms toward her. “Unlace your shoes and leap over here.”

“And then do the rest of the tour without shoes?”

“I’ll carry you.” He winked.

Clarke looked away, trying to suppress the fluttering in her stomach. The notion of being swept up in his arms and carried close to his chest was too romantic to be real. He would drop her or something. “I’ll wait.”

He stood again. “As you wish.”

They stood there in awkward silence. Should she strike up a conversation? Not with Bellamy, that was ridiculous. Minute after minute passed. Every so often people would come down the corridor. When they noticed Clarke was stuck, they laughed and clapped, holding their hands up for a high five as they passed by. Clarke wanted to tell each and every one of them to go float, but she forced a smile and let them high five her. No doubt Bellamy would love it if she made a scene.

Finally a loud humm began, and hot air blew into the corridor. In a minute, she was able to pull her shoes free of the ice and make it to the junction.

Bellamy looked at his watch. “Twelve minutes, you were lucky.”

“I shouldn’t need to be lucky, Bellamy. You could have warned me about that, and about the grime too! What’s next, a collapsing floor?”

He crossed his arms. “You know what your problem is, princess? You’re not used to hardships. Every person who lives at Factory has to deal with grime and freezing floors and a dozen other things, all the time. You get your shoes stuck once, and you’re blowing your lid. And maybe the floor _will_ collapse, but that’s because your Council won’t send anyone to fix things around here.” 

They stared at each other for a moment. Bellamy wasn’t wearing his customary smirk, the resentment in his voice was real. Is this why he was so flippant all the time? Of course it was. If there weren’t any hard feelings between his people and hers, there’d be no need for the marriage. Why hadn’t that occurred to her before? 

“What, no bossy comeback?” Bellamy asked. “No ‘that’s not true’? No ‘that isn’t fair’?” 

Clarke drew in a breath. “You’re right.”

Bellamy’s brows shot up. His mouth opened slightly.

“I’m not used to hardships like this. I’ve never had to live with loud noises or grime getting on my things. When my shoes froze, I only had to wait a few minutes during my leisure time. I can only imagine how frustrating it would be to get stuck for a half hour when I needed to be somewhere.” 

Clarked stepped in closer, gently putting a hand on his arm. “These problems haven’t been shared between everyone. It isn’t fair, and I’ve benefited from that. I’m sorry. I can’t change my background, and I can’t wave my hands and fix it. But I’ll do what I can to make it right, I promise.”

Bellamy’s pupils widened as he stared down at her. A strand of black hair slipped down to curl around his brow and fall on his freckles, but he didn’t seem to notice. For once, he was speechless. Clarke tilted her head up toward him, her handing squeezing his arm. He uncrossed his arms and his gaze fell on her lips. He drew in a sharp breath. 

Then Bellamy raised his head and roared in laughter. 

Clarke backed away, tears building behind her eyes.

“Wow princess, did you recite that in the mirror?”

Clarke practically ran. She stormed back down the corridor, and then another, and then another. She wasn’t sure she was going in the right direction, but it didn’t matter, not as long as it took her away from him.

* * *

Clarke plunked down at their table and put her head in her hands. “Mom... I don’t think I can do this.” 

Her mother put a hand on Clarke’s forehead. “If you need to head back to bed, I can take care of the meeting for you.”

“I mean the marriage.”

“Oh no.” Her mother pulled up a chair and took Clarke’s hands in hers. “If you back out now, it will be taken as a huge insult. Knowing Sydney, she’ll probably turn it into a scandal. Then - wait, has he hurt you?”

“Only if you count my pride,” Clarke sighed. “But he’s _horrible_.”

Her mother’s shoulders relaxed. “Everyone has a softer side. Look for some common ground - “

“I _found_ common ground.” Clarke pulled hands away and stood. “I told him he was _right_ about maintenance, and then he mocked me! He’s the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.”

A knock at the door sounded behind them. Wells was already peeking his head through the entrance. “Are we still meeting, or do you need us to come back later?”

“Clarke…” Her mother’s eyes held a silent plea.

Clarke motioned him in. “It’s fine, you can come in.”

Wells pushed the door open and stood aside. “After you, _honey bumpkins_.”

Anthony York stepped through the doorway, tilting his head to smile back at his finance. “Why thank you, _sweetie pie_.”

Clarked glared at them. “Seriously?”

“Just practicing for married life.” Wells smiled sheepishly. Then he wrapped Clarke in a hug. “I’m sorry this isn’t going as well for you.”

“If you were really sorry, you’d trade fiances with me,” Clarke grumbled.

Anthony laughed. “I’d take you both, but some group that _might_ include your mother insisted there be a biological baby in the works.”

Clarke broke from Well’s hug and turned to Anthony. “You know Bellamy, right?”

“As well as anyone does, I guess.” Anthony shrugged. 

“Does he always enjoy tormenting people, or is it just me?”

Anthony frowned. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to talk to him about that.” 

Clarke clenched her jaw and looked away.

Her mother wrapped an arm around Clarke’s shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. “Boys, please find a seat, I’ll get you some tea. Let’s see if we can find something insignificant to chatter about before Mr. Blake arrives.”

* * *

Bellamy waited in line to enter Alpha Station. He’d made sure to schedule some kind of wedding meeting as often as possible, so Clarke wouldn’t have much time to cool down once he made her angry. After she ran off yesterday, he’d been sure she was done with him. But he hadn’t gotten any messages saying their engagement was over. If he was lucky, she or her mother were just waiting to tell him the news in person. But Clarke had already run off once, and she came back. She had a lot more iron than he’d expected. It was hard not to admire that.

Still, Clarke was clearly at her wit’s end. He just needed to give her one more push. His stomach twisted at the thought, like it did every time he recalled what happened the day before. Maybe it was because he’d almost kissed Clarke - abandoning Octavia on a mere impulse. Or maybe it was because he’d wrenched himself out of it and laughed right in Clarke’s face. Probably both. 

The engagement was almost over. He could do this. 

The guard scanned his ID, and he made his way to the Griffin compartment. Was Clarke already packing her boxes, expecting to move into a new compartment with him in a week? He hoped not. Maybe after it was over, they’d still let her have the new compartment on Alpha? Unlikely, she’d be in disgrace. He shouldn’t think about that. The disgrace would pass, and she would get to marry someone she actually wanted to marry.

Bellamy knocked at the door, and it opened to reveal Dr. Abigail Griffin herself. In the room behind her was Anthony, sitting on the couch with an arm over the shoulders of Jaha junior - Wells, that was the name. Unfortunately, their presence ruled out a quick end to the engagement. Bellamy had mentioned his plan to Anthony, but Anthony had declined to join in. The man actually wanted to be a part of this mess.

Dr. Griffin smiled. “Come in, Mr. Blake. Can I pour you some tea?”

“That’s kind, thank you.” 

Bellamy stepped inside, and spotted Clarke sitting at a far table, her golden hair tucked away in a messy braid, her face carefully neutral. He came over and pulled out the seat next to her. A muscle in her jaw twitched. So far, so good, if anything about this could be called “good.” Bellamy wanted to get it over with, but he couldn’t be too obnoxious in front of other people. He’d have to wait and get Clarke alone.

Everyone gathered around the table, and Dr. Griffin wasted no time in pulling out the invite list for the double wedding. Sydney had instructed Bellamy and Anthony to push the wedding to look inauthentic, an empty gesture by the Council. They hadn’t talked out a coordinated strategy, but they didn’t need to. It was a given in social situations that Anthony was the good cop, and Bellamy was the bad cop.

“I thought these seats up front could be for the Blake and York families.” Dr. Griffin pointed to her seating chart. 

“Families?” Bellamy asked. “In that case, you should’ve repealed the one child policy, no one has much family anymore. I just need one seat for my mother. Anthony has what, two parents? You can give the rest of those seats to the other Council members.”

“This is your big day,” Dr. Griffin said. “If you don’t have family, you can fill them with friends.”

Bellamy crossed his arms. “If the Council’s not standing behind this anymore, you need to tell us now.”

“Of course they are,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “Or you’d be in a cell right now.”

“Clarke.” Dr. Griffin put a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “No one’s going to be arrested, regardless.”

An awkward silence fell. Bellamy deserved Clarke’s remark, but it wouldn’t look that way to the others, and he wasn’t going to ruin that by retorting. He let the silence drag out, sipping his tea. 

Finally Anthony cleared his throat. “I think what Bellamy’s trying to say is that this is about bringing everyone together, and that includes all the Council members that were instrumental in making it happen. Putting our friends in front while making the Council sit in back could be taken the wrong way. Please give them the seats with our thanks. Unless…” Anthony turned to Wells. “Do you need any of those seats, _snuggle bear?_ ”

Bellamy choked on his tea. He recovered and stared at Anthony. “Seriously?”

Anthony gave him a cat’s grin. Wells raised his eyebrows and looked at Clarke significantly. She glared back at him. What was that about? 

“I’m sure the Council will be happy to have those seats.” Dr. Griffin said lightly. “Since we have extra room, we should open some space to the public, and make sure those from stations like Mir and Factory can come join us.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Bellamy shook his head. “Working people can’t afford to take time off to go to fancy parties. If you really want the wedding to be accessible, put it on the interstation channel so everyone can watch from where they are.”

Dr. Griffin nodded. “That should be - ” 

“Mom, don’t,” Clarke said. “Bellamy just wants us to look bad. Who televises a wedding?”

Bellamy paused. Clarke had caught on, so all he could do now was deflect. He turned to face her. “Clarke... I was waiting to say this in private, but I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

Everyone froze.

Clarke narrowed her eyes. “I need some time alone with my fiance.”

The others exchanged glances, then pulled away from the table. Anthony gave Bellamy a comforting pat on the shoulder before leaving with Wells. 

Dr. Griffin bent over her daughter. “Can I have a quick word with you?”

“We’ll have a word later,” Clarke replied.

Dr. Griffin took a last look at Clarke and Bellamy before leaving, her lips pulled tight. She was clearly worried that Clarke would do something rash - like break off the engagement. _This was it._

The doctor left, and they were alone. 

Clarke got up, grabbed the tablet with the seating chart, and slapped in down in front of Bellamy. “We’re going to figure this out now.”

Bellamy blinked. “The _seating_ _chart_ is what you wanted to speak to me alone about?” 

Clarke fixed her stormy blue eyes on him. “I’m tired of watching you lie to my mother. Between the fiance who pretends to be nice and the fiance who’s just a jerk, I choose the jerk.” 

_The jerk is also pretending,_ Bellamy wanted to say, but he couldn’t. He ran a hand through his hair. Somehow, he had to finish this. Clarke was protective of her mother, he’d use that. “You don’t want me to lie to the mother who’s selling you off for political points, got it.”

“I told you, she didn’t - ”

“Yeah, you told me, Princess.” Bellamy got up from the table to face her down, and she raised her dimpled chin in challenge. She was almost as close as when he hadn’t kissed her yesterday. He shouldn’t think of that, he had to focus. “Mommy wanted you to hook up with some rebel she didn’t even know, and you agreed because you’re mommy’s girl, I can tell. And I’m sure when we have a kid together, you’ll sell her out just as fast.”

Clarke clenched her fists. “If you think this is so wrong, why are you doing it?”

“The Opposition chose adults for this. Leaders. Your mother chose her barely-of-age daughter. She’s a self-serving tyrant.”

“Don’t you _dare_ insult my mother.”

“Or what?” Bellamy snarled, “Mommy says you’re mine now.” 

“That’s enough!” Clarke stomped to the door and grabbed the handle. “She does what she has to, but she wouldn’t want this. We’re ov - ” Clarke froze. 

_Come on, Clarke,_ Bellamy prayed. _Just put us out of our misery._

“This is what you want. You want me to refuse.”

 _Oh no._ Bellamy pulled himself together. “As if you’d break things off with a hot guy like me.”

But Clarke didn’t seem to notice. She let go of the door handle, staring into space. “Of course you want me to refuse! If it would be a scandal for the Council, it must be good for the Opposition. I’m so naive.” She facepalmed.

“Just a bit.” Bellamy sighed. What the hell would he do now?

“And you need it to look like my fault. That’s why you’re nicer in front of others.” Clarke’s eyes locked on him again. “Everything you’ve done is about politics.”

“Were you getting married for another reason?”

Clarke stepped toward him with predatory grace. She poked a finger into his chest. “Well too bad, Bellamy Blake.” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “I am, as you so _eloquently_ put it, totally _hot_ for you.”

Bellamy’s jaw dropped. He lurched back.

Clarke stepped forward again and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him in until he felt her warm breath and saw his reflection in her pupils. “So if you don’t want to do the _horizontal tango_ with me, you’ll have to break things off yourself.”

 _Oh shit,_ Bellamy thought as she let him go.

Clarke smirked.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some non-explicit sexual content. If you don't like that stuff, when you get to it just skip the rest of the chapter. You won't miss anything plot important.

Sitting on the lower bunk, Octavia cradled the small cloth bag that Bellamy had handed her. She hadn’t thrown it across the room yet - a good sign. She opened the bag and pulled out a necklace with red beads. Her eyes widened. “Where did you get this?”

“At the Alpha Station market,” Bellamy replied from his place at the table. “I know it doesn’t make up for me being gone so much.”

“It’s gorgeous.” Octavia smiled and stood in front of the glass pane that they used as a mirror. She put it on and turned to him. “Do you think it looks nice?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Good, because you’re 50% of the people who ever will see it on me.”

Bellamy sighed. “I’m sorry. I wanted to sneak you out to the masquerade dance, but…”

“I know, the opposition came calling.” She was surprisingly calm about it. Somehow, she’d gotten over her anger. “It would have been risky anyway. Better stuck in here than in the Skybox.”

His sister crisis temporarily averted, Bellamy leaned over the table and rubbed his forehead. “O, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I agreed to this marriage thinking I could get Clarke so angry she’d cancel, but now she’s onto me.”

“You think she wants to marry you?”

“No, I think she’s too stubborn not to.”

Octavia snorted. “Sounds like you and her have a lot in common.”

“Maybe not. I think I have to back out.”

“Wouldn’t they float you or something?”

“No. The Council doesn’t have proof of what I’ve done, and it would cost them too much politically. But the opposition would be done with me. Without their protection, I’m sure the council will have no trouble finding an excuse to fire me from the guard. But I'll still be able to take care of you. That's more important.”

Octavia pulled out a chair and plunked onto it. She stared him down with her green eyes. “If you didn't have me to worry about, would you just marry her?”

Bellamy sat up. “That’s not fair - ”

Octavia’s jaw dropped in mock outrage. “You totally would!”

“I didn’t say that.”

She hit him on the arm. “I can see it on your face, you'd do it in a second! She's hot, isn't she?”

“O!”

“Isn’t she?”

“She's... yes. But that's not important. It's a political marriage for political reasons.”

“Uh huh.” Octavia rolled her eyes. Then she leaned on an elbow. “Look, I talked to Mom about this whole thing yesterday.”

“And she said you were being too hard on me?”

“What? No. She thought I was absolutely right and we should both kick your ass.”

He chuckled. “And somehow that changed your mind.”

“She was completely unreasonable about it, and it made me realize I was being just as bad. Mom’s the one who had a second kid, not you. I don't want to be a weight hanging around your neck for your whole life.”

“You’re not a weight, you’re my sister.” Bellamy put a hand on her shoulder.

“And that’s how I want to feel: like a sister and not a burden. Please… make your own life choices. We’ll figure out the rest. Maybe I’ll even meet Clarke someday.”

“I hope you’re not telling me to do this because you think we can confide in her. Clarke’s marrying me because at 18, she already believes it’s her duty to help the Ark survive. If she believed it was her duty to turn you in…”

“No, Bell, that’s _not_ why I’m doing it. Now stop whining and go make up with this stubborn princess of yours.”

Bellamy gave Octavia a wry smile and pulled her into a hug.

* * *

  
  


Clarke paced in her living room. A couple days had passed since she had told Bellamy that, umm, that she was hot for him and that they were going to do the horizontal tango unless he refused. Somehow, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. He’d canceled their next meeting, and as she counted down the days before their wedding, she’d wondered if he was actually going to back out. He’d been trying so hard to get her to call it off. She told herself it hadn’t been personal, but she couldn’t help wondering if he found her repulsive and abhorred the idea of marrying her. 

But then Bellamy sent a message apologizing for the delay and asking to schedule some time with Clarke to go over the final preparations. He hadn’t asked for the meeting to include anyone else, just her. If he was planning on taunting her again, she’d be prepared. If he was planning something else… 

There was a rap on the door. This was it. Clarke drew in a breath and opened it. Bellamy was dressed in a dark gray shirt and navy jacket. It was a casual getup, but the clothes were stain free, and the patchwork was tidy and subtle. His black hair wasn’t slicked back like it had been when he was in uniform, but it was neatly combed. Was it weird that she wanted to reach out and mess it up?

She stepped back to let him in, then she closed the door behind him.

“Clarke, I want to apologize. You tried to be my friend, and I returned the favor by making you miserable. I’m sorry.” His dark eyes were serious, his mouth held no sign of his telltale smirk.

Clarke shoved her hands in her pockets. She’d learned how far being open and trusting could get her. “Are you actually sorry you did it? Or are you just sorry it didn’t work?”

“I’m sorry I alienated you for no reason.”

“But if you could go back and make another attempt? Would you still do it?”

Bellamy paused. “Alright, I retract my apology, if that’s what you want.”

“What I want is a fiance who doesn’t lie to me.”

“Should we go shopping and pick up a new one?” he smirked. “I hear the distillery at Farm Station has the best selection.”

She threw her hands into the air. “I can’t believe you.”

Bellamy shrugged and moved over to the table. “Come on, Princess, let’s go over the ceremony and the floor plan for our new digs, and then you can be done with me for the day.”

Clarke held off, drawing in a deep breath. She’d agreed to marry a member of a criminal resistance. After that, asking for a fiance who didn’t lie was hopelessly naive. Clearly she was still getting the hang of all this political nonsense. But how could she, when no one told her anything? Council business was strictly confidential, and Bellamy hadn’t exactly opened up to her. But if he was genuinely trying to get on better terms, maybe he would?

She should have thought of that before she’d gotten mad at him. Now he’d closed up again. She needed him to relax. “You’re right, we should get started. Tea?”

Going over the ceremony went as well as could be reasonably expected. Bellamy mostly just nodded as they leaned over the schedule on the table. She explained that the plan was for Wells and Anthony to go out and give their vows first, while she and Bellamy waited in an adjoining chamber. When it was their turn, they’d come out together and give their vows, ending in the standard kiss. Clarke snuck a glance at Bellamy’s face at that point, but he looked unfazed by the idea that their first kiss would be in front of a hundred guests.

After the vows, the four of them would water the Eden Tree, and then the Caretaker would lead the whole room in a prayer. Finally, the newlyweds would line up by the door to chat with all the guests as they left.

“No dancing?” Bellamy asked.

Clarke examined her hands. “I wasn’t looking forward to putting on a dance performance in front of everyone.” She didn’t say _with you._

“Fine by me. If that’s the whole plan, I’m good with it.”

Clarke glanced up. Bellamy was still leaning toward her, his chin propped up by an elbow. A contented smile briefly appeared on his lips, and then disappeared again.

“I’m glad.” She let out a breath and pulled up the floor plan on her tablet. They’d been assigned a single bedroom unit with a joint living room/kitchen and a shower cubby. “Here’s our new compartment.” She handed it over to him. “Sorry it’s not big.”

Bellamy looked at it, and his eyes widened. “Speak for yourself. I’ve lived my whole life in a small room with two built-in bunks and a pull-out toilet and sink. This is huge.”

“Oh.” Clarke couldn’t help glancing around the compartment she’d grown up in, with it’s two bedrooms, living room, kitchen, and full bathroom.

Bellamy followed her gaze. “Yeah, you’ve been living in a palace. But I guess you wouldn’t realize that, growing up on Alpha.”

“I still should have known. I’m sorry.”

“You can make it up to me by contributing some furniture. I’d rather sleep on the floor than ask my mother for the few things she has.” He examined the floor plan again, brow furrowed in concentration. 

“Right. Well, we won’t be sleeping on the floor at least. I’ve managed to trade in my single bed and an arm chair for, ummm…” she bit her lip. She had arranged for a double bed without discussing their sleeping arrangements first. What if he wanted to sleep separately?

Bellamy looked up from the tablet. “For a bigger bed, right? Or are we sleeping in a hammock?”

Clarke laughed in relief. “Yes, it’s a bed.”

He set down the tablet and leaned back into his chair. “I can probably scrounge enough crates for a makeshift table and two stools, just until we have something better.”

“Good idea. More tea?” 

“Please.” Bellamy pushed his cup toward her. He looked relaxed. If she wanted more information out of him, now was her best shot. 

Clarke grabbed the teapot and refilled their mugs. “Bellamy, I’d like to know what it is you and your fellows are hoping this marriage will do for you.” 

He took the steaming mug and blew across it. Then he sipped in silence for a moment. “Do you really think I’ll tell you that?” 

“Why not? I’m not on the Council.”

“Not yet, but you’ll follow your mother’s footsteps sooner or later.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Bellamy snorted softly. “Volunteer for any political marriages recently?” 

She let out a laugh. “I can’t argue with that. But still, the point of this marriage is for everyone to work together to solve problems.”

“No.” He crossed his arms. “The point is pacify everyone so they won’t object to the Council’s decisions.”

Clarke’s shoulders sagged. Her mother had said as much.

Bellamy sighed. He rested his elbows on the table and gave her a small, tired smile. “I see you knew that already. So don’t say you aren’t political and this is about us working together.”

“Okay, I admit the Council wants everyone to calm down, as far as I know anyway. But... ” She reached out across the table and slowly placed a hand on his. 

He didn’t reach back, but he didn’t pull away either.

“The Council isn’t the only one who agreed to this. You haven’t backed out, so you must want something from it. Don’t you think you’ll have a better chance if you talk to me?”

He met her eyes. “No Clarke, I don’t.”

Clarke pulled her hand back. “So what, you’ll just keep _lying_ to me and trying to _trick_ me?”

“When you’re less powerful than your enemy, that’s the only way to win.”

_“Enemy?”_

“Yes, enemy.” Bellamy pushed out of his chair and stood up. “Not to pull you from the sheltered life you’ve been living, but when two groups oppose each other and people could _die_ , they’re enemies. That’s the reality.”

Clarke slammed her mug on the table. “Well you agreed to a marriage, and the _reality_ of married life is that you can’t hide everything from your spouse! I’ll know when you come home and when you leave again. I’ll have access to your medical records, your shift schedules, and your ID checks. I’ll be able to search through your things anytime I want. Just how long do you think you can keep your damn secrets without me discovering them?”

Bellamy’s face paled. Then his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. He stalked toward the door and wrenched it open.

“Wait, Bellamy -” Clarke scrambled up from the table and raced to the door. “I didn’t mean -” 

But he was already gone. 

She sat back at the table and collapsed, resting her forehead on the cool surface. What had she been thinking? If he’d threatened to go through her things and spy on her, she’d be angry too.

* * *

Clarke took in a quivering breath in her borrowed green dress, adorned with shimmering gold patterns. A thin gold chain with a tree pendant hung lightly around her neck, and her hair had been curled and pinned above her head, except for a few strands left out to frame her face. She looked great, but she felt awful. Bellamy hadn’t sent her a message since he stormed out. Now she was in her gown, waiting as the ceremony began, and he still hadn’t arrived. 

The door clicked, and Clarke turned, hoping to see Bellamy. It was just an usher. He put a couple cups of water on the side table and left again.

What if Bellamy wasn’t going to show? What if her punishment was being stood up on her wedding day? 

She shouldn’t even care. So what if he broke off the marriage? She’d probably end up with a fiance who was nicer. Or she’d just tell her mother that after this, political marriages were not for her, and her mother would have to relent. But Clarke didn’t want things with Bellamy to end this way. Maybe if she’d been _trying_ to drive him off, it would be a victory. He certainly deserved that. But she hadn’t tried - she’d made a mistake.

The back door clicked and Clarke looked over. This time it was really Bellamy, looking sleek in a tux as he gave her a once over. Unfortunately, his hair was slicked back again. She’d have to talk to someone about that. 

“Hi, Bellamy.”

He didn’t reply. He just placed himself next to her and silently held out his elbow. She sighed and took it. Was he really going to give her the cold shoulder during their wedding?

“I’m sorry I said those things to you,” Clarke managed. 

“Are you sorry you tried, or just sorry I didn’t spill the beans like you wanted? What if you could go back and make another attempt?”

Clarked gaped at him. One freckled cheek had the telltale dimple - he thought this was funny. “Alright, I deserve that.”

His smirk revealed itself.

“You aren’t angry?” she asked.

Bellamy shrugged. “I was an asshole, so you needed to punish me for a while. I get it.”

“No, that’s not - okay, maybe a little. But mostly, I was overwhelmed with all this posturing. You may think I’m the Council’s agent, but the Council wants me to know as little as possible. I wanted to feel in control again, and I took it out on you. But I will give you your privacy, I promise.”

Bellamy’s face softened. “Thank you.”

“We still don’t have to get married. I can’t back out with dealing a political blow to the Council. But if you don’t want to do this, couldn’t you break it off and let the Opposition send someone else?”

“You know I won’t answer that.”

“No, I mean…” Clarke grabbed his other arm and pulled him to face her. “All I’m saying is that it isn’t too late for you to back out.”

“Is that so?” He stared at her incredulously. “Well unless I’ve mesmerized you with my sharp cheekbones, _you_ can back out yourself. You don’t feel in control _now?_ It’s not going to get better. Everything we do will be politics. Do you really want that?”

“Do _you_ really want to share a compartment with me night and day? I saw your face when I suggested looking at your things.”

“Do _you_ want to share a bed with me every night?” He smirked. “Wait, nevermind, you do, don’t you?”

Clarke felt her face grow hot, but she wasn’t backing down. “Yes I do, because you’ve mesmerized me with your sharp cheekbones. But do _you_ want me sleeping next to you every night?”

“You won’t get any sleep, because I’m always coming and going during the grave shift.”

“Well I take up the bathroom for an hour every morning.”

“I track grime everywhere.”

“I hate doing the dishes.”

“I hog the sheets.”

“That’s enough!” Clarke poked a finger into the white fold of his tux. “Bellamy Blake, I am _going_ _to_ marry you.”

“I hope so,” said the usher through the open door. “Because the two of you are supposed to come out and give your vows now.”

“Right, sorry.” Clarke straightened and positioned herself back on Bellamy’s arm.

Together, they proceeded slowly out the open door, into the Ark’s main hall. String lights were draped along the plain metal walls, and chairs filled the room, parted by a center aisle outlined in chalk. At the aisle’s end was the altar with the miniature Eden Tree. The Caretaker, Vera Kane, stood there wearing a simple brown dress. She smiled and spread her arms toward them.

Heads turned and bodies shifted to stare at Clarke and Bellamy as they proceeded down the aisle. Clarke struggled to look calm and peaceful while Bellamy seemed completely at ease, damn him. Then she spotted Wells standing up ahead and off to the side. He gave her a small wave, and she felt her shoulders relax a little. Everything would be okay.

They reached the front, and the Caretaker said a few platitudes. Then Clarke and Bellamy were facing each other, holding hands. Clarke stared up at Bellamy as the overhead spotlight gleamed on his lashes and lit his freckled cheeks. He stared directly back at her, his eyes revealing shades of warm brown under the light. She felt her face grow hot again, but she couldn’t look away, not during their vows.

“Bellamy Blake,” announced the Caretaker as she held her mic out to him, “you may make your plea.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy’s voice was soft, “they say the duty of every person on the Ark is to be one link in an unbroken chain, preserving humanity for the generation that will return to the ground. In the short time we’ve known each other, I’ve learned that no one takes that duty more seriously than you do. But I want you to know that you’re not a link, a chain, or a duty to me, you’re a person. A person I’m asking to be my wife and partner.” As he spoke, he gently stroked her hand with his thumb, sending shivers up her arm.

He continued, “I’m sorry if I’m not the partner a smaller you would have doodled or dreamed about in her diary…”

The audience chuckled.

“...but I want to earn your love and respect.” 

He was still staring into her eyes, he looked completely serious. He squeezed her hands briefly, and Clarke drew in a breath. It wasn’t real, it was another act. Wasn’t it? How was she supposed to know which was the real Bellamy and which was the fake one?

“If you’ll take me,” he went on, “I promise I will be the partner you need. I will care for you, advocate for you, and shower you with as much affection as you can stand.” He gave her a warm smile, his eyes crinkling.

Clarke swallowed. _It’s not real,_ she told herself. _He doesn’t actually feel that way._

“From this day on until my final journey, I pledge myself,” Bellamy finished.

The Caretaker nodded and held to mic to Clarke. “Clarke Griffin, how do you answer?”

Oh no, her vows were all wrong. Her mother had written them for her, and it was full of statements about bringing people on the Ark together. It even had that unbroken chain metaphor. Before, the speech had seemed appropriate, but after Bellamy’s warm and personal pledge, it would come off as cold and fake. 

One corner of Bellamy’s mouth twitched - he was suppressing another smirk. He’d done this on purpose! Clarke _knew_ he’d been lying. Someday she’d wipe that damn smirk off his face. No, not someday, _tonight_.

“Clarke?” the Caretaker asked again.

Crap. Clarke couldn’t use the vows she’d memorized. She needed to come up with something new, right now while everyone was watching. Something genuine.

“Bellamy,” she said. That was a start, now she just had to do the entire speech. “It’s no secret that I didn’t like you at first, and I think we can both agree that’s your fault.”

The front row took a collective gasp, but Bellamy laughed, his eyes tearing with mirth. The audience relaxed again. Okay, maybe that was _too_ genuine.

“But I know there’s more to you than your smirk,” she continued, “or your muscled biceps. And even if you aren’t ready to let me see every part of you, I know that everything you do is for others. For those who aren’t being heard.”

Bellamy was studying her intently. She squeezed his hands.

Clarke went on. “Sometimes it feels like the void between us is too vast. But I want to build the ship that will carry us across. So I accept your pledge, and I promise I will listen to you, think deeply about what you say, and advocate for a better Ark with you. Not just for you, but for everyone after us.”

Bellamy’s eyes were wide, like that time in the corridor when she thought they might kiss. Was this the real Bellamy? 

She took a breath. “From this day on until my final journey, I pledge myself.”

The Caretaker spread her arms. “The plea has been accepted.”

Applause echoed through the metal chamber.

“Clarke and Bellamy, you are now wed. You may kiss.”

This was it. She and Bellamy stared at each other. Wasn’t he going to kiss her? Clarke gritted her teeth. One of them had to make the first move, and apparently it wouldn’t be Bellamy. She reached her hand up to the back of his neck and slid her fingers into his thick hair. Then she gently pulled him down until his forehead was touching hers. 

_Come on, Bellamy,_ she thought. _You can do the rest._

His minty breath washed over her as he slowly closed the gap. “Your impromptu vows sounded good,” he murmured into her lips.

“I hate you,” she murmured back.

Then his arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her into a hungry kiss. She found herself closing her eyes and leaning into him, until all too soon, the moment was over.

* * *

After almost an hour of making small talk, Clarke just wanted to sit down in a quiet place with a glass of water. Luckily, the last of the guests were finally trailing out. 

“See you later, Blake,” a guardswoman shook Bellamy’s hand.

“Griffin,” Bellamy corrected.

“Right, it’s Griffin now.” She smiled and waved.

Clarke barely knew Bellamy, they’d spent most of their time together arguing, and now he had her name. Weird. When the Council had first planned the marriages, they’d actually asked her and Wells to take their spouses’ names. They thought their gesture of peace would mean more if their kids symbolically joined the other family. Everyone had been surprised when both Anthony and Bellamy disagreed. As it turned out, the Jaha and Griffin names were important status symbols, which the men had expected to gain along with the marriages. In the end, they compromised. Wells became a York, and strange though it was, Bellamy was now a Griffin.

Bellamy turned to Clarke. “I think we’ve cleared the house. Are you ready to go… home?”

“Definitely ready.” 

They hugged Wells and Anthony goodbye. The annoyingly happy pair each wrapped an arm around the other’s waist and pranced off. Clarke and Bellamy turned down their own corridor, heading off to their new compartment in silence. 

What would they do when they got there? They would be alone, married, so did that mean… she was _not_ going to call it the ‘horizontal tango.’ They hadn’t talked about it. Okay, technically they had, but trying to bait each other into breaking things off should not count. Clarke sighed.

Bellamy glanced over at her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. The crowd was just a little…”

“Exhausting?”

She nodded. 

“Well I hear our new mansion has two whole rooms, so if you stake out your territory quickly, you can probably claim one that’s free of smirking men.”

Clarke chuckled. “I just need to drink some water and get these heels off my feet.”

They were already moved into their compartment - mostly. The new double bed had been hauled in and made up with sheets and blankets, and Bellamy had assembled a rough crate table with stools as promised. The living room area had no couch, but they had a few pillows to sit on. Their clothes, however, were piled unceremoniously on the floor, and the few dishes were stacked on the counter.

While Clarke sat down on a stool and removed her heels, Bellamy stepped over to the kitchen sink. He filled a cup with water and put it on the table in front of her.

She grabbed it gratefully. “You _are_ the partner I need.” 

Bellamy smiled and sat across from her. He began removing his own shoes and socks. “So we’re clear, I don’t expect anything from you tonight. We don’t have a deadline, so there’s no reason to rush something that takes time to build.”

Clarke should have felt relieved. Instead, she was disappointed - and frustrated. If she was being completely honest with herself, having sex with Bellamy was the one thing she’d really looked forward to in the marriage. Why did he have to make everything difficult?

She took her last gulp and put down the cup. “So you’re nervous? I understand. We can wait.”

His brows creased. “I said that for you.”

“Oh come on, that's an obvious cover. But it's fine.” She toyed with her cup, biting her cheek to suppress a grin. “After all, I’m a princess, so it's only natural that I make you nervous.”

Bellamy stood up and ripped off his tie. Throwing it onto the floor, he squared his jaw and glared at her, the top buttons of his shirt left invitingly open. 

He thought she’d chicken out? She’d show him. Clarke stood up and slowly removed all the pins holding up her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders. Then she took a small step closer to him and waited. 

Bellamy pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. He had a six pack under there - score. He took a step closer and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

She could take off her necklace, but that was a scaredy-cat move. She reached for the zipper at the back of her dress, and managed to pull it down. She let the dress drop, and stepped forward out of it. 

Bellamy was only a couple feet away. He took his time, looking her up and down. _Don’t blush_ , she told herself. What was there to blush about, really? She was only having a game of sex chicken with an Opposition leader. Oh god.

He unbuckled his slacks, let them drop, and stepped forward, kicking them aside. He had nice legs, but she couldn’t see his butt. Soon.

She unclasped her strapless bra and tossed it aside. Then she stepped toward him, so that her breasts were almost, but not quite, brushing his chest. He stared at her, his eyelids fluttering, his lips parted. She smiled sweetly up at him. _Who’s begging for a kiss now?_

He removed his underwear. Yep, he was just as excited as he looked. She removed hers. Now they were both completely naked and standing barely apart. His damn move.

He smirked. “It isn’t too late for you to back out.”

Clarke grabbed him. But she didn’t kiss him on the lips, oh no, she sucked on his neck, and nibbled his ear, and worked her lips along his jaw, until he growled in frustration. He wrenched her away and then brought her back in for a passionate kiss. 

For a moment Clarke basked in his eagerness, but she wasn’t done getting back at him. She reached down and grabbed him. He gasped, and she let go.

“Do you want something?” she asked lightly. “You might have to spell it out for me.”

“Is that so?” Bellamy spun her so she was facing away and pulled her back against him. He breathed into her ear. “What about what you want? If you ask really nicely, _maybe_ I’ll give it to you.”

Clarke moaned as his hands explored her. She tried to grab him back, but she was still facing away, and his arms were tight around her sides. Bracing against the floor, she swirled her hips and ground backwards into him. His hands paused as he sucked in air.

“Oh, we’ll see who begs,” Clarke said.

He renewed his efforts. As she panted, she relaxed into him, feigning submission, and then quickly reached down and back to pinch his butt. He jumped. She used the opening to turn back around. From there it was war. She stroked him not quite where he wanted it. He rubbed her only to pull away too soon. She groped, and he squeezed, she bit, and he licked, both teasing and taunting for all they were worth.

It was hard to tell if she broke first or he did, because soon it became clear that neither of them cared one wit about their contest if it meant waiting another second to bang their frustration out. They crashed onto the bed, and he pounded her into the dense mattress until they were both exhausted. Satiated, they collapsed into a sweaty, tangled heap.

“Pretty good for our first horizontal tango,” Bellamy said.

“We are _not_ calling it that.”


	4. Chapter 4

Clarke woke up half-covered by a thin, scratchy blanket. She shivered and shifted. Bellamy was still in bed, radiating heat under a thick pile of covers. He really _did_ hog the sheets. 

Clarke reached over to seize her rightful bedding. Bellamy’s skin was so warm. She could wrap around him and soak in his heat, but somehow, that idea seemed more intimate than their bunny sex the night before. Instead she yanked on the sheet and covers, and then placed her chilly feet on his calves.

“Gah!” Bellamy woke with a start. “What - is that your _feet?_ ”

“You deprive me of my blankets, you pay the price,” Clarke mumbled through her pillow.

“I grew up where shoes freeze to the floor, and I’ve never felt feet this cold.”

“Teach you… to…” Clarke was already being pulled into a comfortable doze, covered by blankets still holding Bellamy’s warmth. The bed shifted as Bellamy got up and away from her feet, and then Clarke drifted off.

Sometime later, she slowly came back to consciousness as she heard Bellamy’s footsteps in the bedroom. Cloth shifted and a belt clanked. She rubbed her eyes to see that he was lacing his shoes. Was it as early as it felt? She flailed at the floor near her bed - they needed another crate for this - until she found her clock. It _was_ early.

She managed to pull herself up and push her hair out of her face. “Where are you going at this hour?”

“It's been less than a day since you promised not to invade my privacy, and you're already breaking that promise?” He finished lacing his shoes and stood. 

Clarke sighed. “I’m not going through your things or looking at your records. I’m just asking a question.”

“Then don’t be surprised when I never answer.” He searched through his stack of clothes on the floor.

“Oh come on. You can’t be doing crime every hour of the day. Don’t I at least get to know a few of the things that any wife would want to know?”

“You don’t want to know those things.”

“Of course I do.”

Bellamy found his jacket, straightened, and started putting it on. “Okay then, what’s my favorite food? When's my birthday? Do you even know how old I am?”

“That isn’t fair.” Clarke stepped out of bed, grabbing for a robe in her haphazard clothing pile. “We’ve only known each other for a week, and half of that time you were trying to push me away.”

“But you’ve had time to ask questions, and those aren’t the questions you asked. You care about the role I play in the Opposition, you don’t care about me.”

“Bellamy, I _do_ care about you.” Clarke wrapped herself in her robe and stepped toward him.

He zipped up his jacket and looked her in the eye. “We married because of politics, not because we fell in love. If you really do care about me, don’t pretend you’re a loving wife just to get things out of me.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.” Clarke put her hand on his arm. “Marriage isn’t only about love, it’s also about partnership. You said you would be the partner I needed. Did you mean that or was it just politics?”

His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I’ll be the partner you need, but I don’t think I can be the partner you want.” 

Clarke’s shoulders sagged. What could she say to that?

Bellamy pulled away and headed for the door. “I’ll probably be back before dinner. Be here or don’t be here, whatever you want.”

The door clicked shut, and Clarke was left alone in their compartment. At least he told her when he’d be back - or when he would _probably_ be back. And here she’d taken the day off from her medical apprenticeship because that’s what you did after you got married. Apparently she was not done being naive. 

She surveyed her new home. Something about the place just felt wrong. Like it was… unnaturally tidy. Where were all the things they’d thrown off before doing - it was _not_ the horizontal tango - last night? She went back into the bedroom. Bellamy had hung up her dress, placed her shoes neatly under them, put her underwear in what looked like a clothes hamper, and even tied her hair pins together with an elastic band. She blinked. Maybe he really did want to be a good partner. Either that or he was a neat freak.

She had to do her part, so she carefully made up the bed. Bed… she was so tired, and it was still early… she lifted the covers and dove back onto the mattress. Then she fell soundly asleep.

* * *

Clarke found Wells later that day in their Cultural Heritage classroom, as everyone gathered before class. 

“Clarke,” Wells gave her a hug. “I wasn’t sure you were going to be here.”

“I wasn’t sure you were.” 

“Well _snuggums_ \- “

“Float me.” Clarke rolled her eyes.

Wells chuckled. “ _Anthony_ had stuff to do, but we’ll be having dinner.”

Clarke fell into a seat at a nearby table. “That’s it? Just like that?”

Wells sat across from her, his brows creased. “What do you mean, just like that?”

“I mean you talked about your day after, he openly told you he had commitments, and you agreed to see each other over dinner, just like that.”

“You’re still having trouble with Bellamy, huh?”

Clarke put her head in her hands. “He becomes hostile whenever I ask him a normal question. Like… did Anthony tell you what he’s doing today?”

Wells shrugged. “He didn’t say and I didn’t ask.”

“But… don’t you want to know what your husband does with his time? I mean, they’re not just Opposition goons, they have jobs and friends and … _lives_. Shouldn’t we be involved in that instead of waiting at home for them to appear out of some vacuum every day?”

“I’d like to know, but I have time to learn that stuff later. Right now we’re just focused on getting to know each other one-on-one. I don’t ask about the Opposition, he doesn’t ask about my dad, and we don’t discuss the day’s politics.”

“That simple?”

“That simple.”

Clarke sighed and leaned back. “Maybe that would have happened for us if he’s been nice when we first met, instead of trying to get me to break it off. Now I’m always wondering if he means what he tells me or if he’s saying it to give the Opposition some advantage.”

“The nice thing about discussing how to make cabbage rolls or arguing over an ancient ball game is that it’s hard to give the Council or Opposition an advantage no matter what you say.”

“You’re right. I’ve been pressing him too hard.”

“You just got off on the wrong foot. You’ll turn it around.” 

“But where do I start? We’ve never tried to enjoy each other’s company before. When we’re together, it’s always business.” Her face grew hot. “Or sex,” she admitted.

Wells grinned. “Why am I not surprised by that?”

“Because you’ve _seen_ him. Don’t tease.”

Wells tried to suppress his smile but didn’t quite manage. 

Clarke glared at him, but went on. “When Bellamy’s nice to me, I wonder if it’s a political ploy. If I start being nice to him, he’ll probably think I’m trying to loosen him up so he reveals something. Because, honestly, I’ve tried that.”

“You could talk to his mother.”

“His mother?”

“Yeah. Her name is Aurora, right? She didn’t talk much yesterday, but parents love going on about their kids, so you can ask how to work your way into his good graces. Plus, she _probably_ isn’t part of the Opposition, so no politics.”

The instructor entered the classroom. Everyone else sat down as he walked up to the front.

“That’s a good idea. I think I’ll do that.” Clarke gave Wells a hug. “Thank you.”

“Good luck.”

* * *

Clarke found door 20391 and drew in a breath. This was it. She had to cross her fingers and hope it was okay to stop by unannounced. That was standard on Alpha, but what if it was rude on Factory? Clarke had sent a message to Aurora’s ID code requesting a visit, but Aurora probably didn’t have a terminal at home, so she wouldn’t see it in time. Normally Clarke would have gone through Bellamy to meet up with her, but explaining to him why she wanted to see his mother right away would defeat the point.

Clarke knocked on the door. Nothing happened. Right, maybe Aurora wasn’t home. The door was thick, so just in case, she knocked a little louder. If no one was here, it wouldn’t hurt to be loud.

The seal loosened and the door swung open. On the other side was Aurora. A willowy woman, she was handsome like her son, but her brown hair was long and straight. 

Aurora’s brows lifted. “Ms. Griffin?”

“Hi. I, uh, hope I didn’t come at a bad time.”

She smiled politely. “What can I do for you?”

“I just came to chat with you, if that’s okay.”

She hesitated. “Of course. Give me a moment.” Aurora shut the door again.

Clarke stared at the door. Well, the hope that Aurora would instantly embrace Clarke and welcome her into the family home was dead. But as long as she wasn’t as difficult as Bellamy, a good conversation with her was at least possible. 

After a few more seconds the door opened, and Aurora stepped aside to usher Clarke in.

“May I get you some water?” Aurora said.

“If you don’t mind.” 

The compartment Bellamy grew up in was as small as he’d said. The narrow rectangular space was barely longer than the bunks up against one wall, and what walking room it held was mostly taken up by a work table covered in sewing materials. Aurora quickly gathered the materials off the table, carefully folding them and putting them away in a drawer.

On top of the set of drawers was a dish with a few simple pendants and other pieces of jewelry. It tugged at Clarke’s memory - Bellamy had bought a necklace with the red beads at the Alpha Station Market. He’d never given it to Clarke, and it was increasingly unlikely he would. It wasn’t in his mother’s jewelry dish either. But that didn’t mean anything, right? Aurora still could have it _somewhere_.

Aurora put a cup of water on the table, and Clarke took the chair next to it. The table’s surface had a grid scratched into it, like a game board.

“Is this for chess?” Clarke asked.

“And checkers.” Aurora took the other chair.

A game: that’s what Clarke needed to make this less awkward. “If you have time, I’d love to play.”

“Oh, well Bellamy plays with his friends. I don’t really play.” Aurora crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap.

“I didn’t know he liked games.”

“I think he might be a little tired of them by now.”

Silence fell. To make it less awkward, Clarke sipped from her cup. This was turning into a nightmare. _Parents love going on about their kids,_ Wells had said. But she didn’t seem to. What about Bellamy would she want to talk about?

“The Guard is selective,” Clarke said. “You must be proud of Bellamy.”

Aurora looked away, wringing her hands. “I worked hard to get him in. And he was doing so well.” 

He _was_ doing well? Then it clicked. “I promise he’ll be okay. No one’s going to take him off the guard.” 

Aurora gave her a piercing look. “But you don’t control that.”

“I don’t, but the Council arranged our marriage because they need unity, and if anything happened to Bellamy, it would have the opposite effect.”

Aurora sighed. “That’s what he said this morning.”

“He’s right.” This morning? So he had run off to visit his mother. Why couldn’t he just say that? Clarke continued. “I know this situation is uncomfortable in a lot of ways, but I came here because I want to make things better.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m not sure what you can do.”

Clarke fidgeted in her seat. “Actually, I was hoping you might help me.”

Aurora smiled and shook her head. “Bellamy doesn’t listen to me anymore, if he did…” she glanced at Clarke, then back to her hands.

Clarke’s chest tightened. So Aurora hadn’t approved of the marriage. Of course she didn’t, she was worried about her son. Why had Clarke decided to visit so soon? Bellamy would probably think she was poking into his family business. Then she would be at worse than square one. No. She was getting something out of this social wreck.

“Ms. Blake, could you just… when is Bellamy’s birthday?”

* * *

As the hour grew late, it seemed more likely that Bellamy wasn’t showing up for dinner after all. Clarke leaned back against the counter, feeling queasy in her stomach. She’d set the table, prepared the batter, and already fried several corn fritters before she’d realized that they’d just get cold before he arrived. What if he showed up and he’d already eaten dinner? What if he didn’t show up until midnight? 

Even if he got home soon and he hadn’t eaten, when he saw her standing in the kitchen wearing a classic apron like a housewife straight out of their history books, he’d probably just laugh. Maybe she should admit her day was a complete disaster and erase all evidence of this mess.

The door clicked and Clarke stiffened like she’d been caught in the act. Bellamy walked in with his guard jacket tucked under one arm and holding a small bag in his other hand. 

He caught sight of her and started. “Clarke.” He glanced at the counter and pan on the stove. “You weren’t waiting for me to have dinner, were you?”

She heaved a sigh. “You _said_ you’d be home before dinner.” Oh no, she was being short with him again. But he was so irritating! “I mean, you said you’d _probably_ be back before dinner, and I could be here if I wanted, and then you left and I didn’t get a chance to ask you... to _tell_ you I wanted to spend some time together.”

Bellamy put his things down and stepped into the kitchen. “Well I…” He stared at the pan and the bowl of batter. “You really want to make me dinner?”

Clarke felt her face grow hot. “Your mother said you loved the fritters at Farm Station, but she couldn’t afford to buy them often and you didn’t have the kitchen to make them at home, so I thought…”

“Wait - you talked to my mother? When?”

“I visited her this afternoon, just to ask a few… I know you’re 23 now. That’s good, right? I swear I didn’t pry, I - ”

 _“Clarke.”_ Bellamy leaned in and looked her in the eye. 

She cringed. “Yes?”

“You’re _adorable_ ,” he smirked.

Clarke grabbed the spatula and smacked him with it. He cackled.

She pointed the spatula at the table. “You are going to sit down and eat the food I make.”

“As you command, Princess.” Bellamy took a seat, still smirking.

Clarke tried to focus the cooking, feeling her back prickle under his gaze. Or what she thought might be his gaze, for all she knew he was busy filing his fingernails. The pan had to heat back up, and then she carefully fried each fritter. When she brought the hot plate to the table, Bellamy was sitting straight in his chair with a suspiciously dimpled cheek, watching her attentively. She put the plate down, and he dutifully forked several onto his plate.

Clarke sat down and took a few bites as she stole glances at her new husband. He was being surprisingly compliant. Was issuing orders the magic solution to her Bellamy problems? Would that have worked during their engagement? But as tempting as it was to try going forward, partners didn’t order each other around, they worked together to accomplish shared goals. Clarke couldn’t avoid having a real conversation with him.

“Bellamy, I’m sorry about this morning.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “And yes, if I could go back, I would tell myself not to ask where you were going this morning, and not just because you didn’t tell me.”

Bellamy snorted into his food. He put down his fork. “I appreciate knowing your time travel agenda, but I was going to say you don’t need to apologize. You were right, you just asked me a question. I reacted badly, and now you’re afraid to talk to me. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Clarke leaned back, the tension finally leaving her shoulders. “Still, I played my part, too. I know I haven’t earned your trust yet, and it will take time. For now… Wells told me that he and Anthony are staying away from anything political, and I thought that might be good for us too.”

“You’re not going to ask me to call you sweetie pie, are you?”

Clarke chuckled. “Please don’t.”

“Then alright.”

“And… can you please reserve some time for me? For making dinner, or playing a game, or something simple like that?”

Bellamy tilted his head and examined her across the table for a moment, his freckled cheeks smooth and humorless. “Yeah, okay.”

“Thank you. I would also… your mom mentioned that you visited her this morning. You don’t have to tell me when you do, of course, but I just wanted you to know that - sometime - I would like to go with you. So I can get to know her better.”

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.” Bellamy nodded. “But just so you understand, I only went by briefly this morning to check up on her. It wouldn’t have made sense to bring you.”

“I know. I don’t think it made sense for me to visit today. I got the feeling she doesn’t approve of me or the marriage.”

“She’s just worried. And she probably wasn’t prepared for your visit. Our compartment - her compartment - doesn’t have much room, so it’s difficult to be a good host.” Bellamy stood up and took Clarke’s plate. “Since you’ve made dinner, let me clean up for you.”

“Thanks,” Clarke. “Umm, when you’re done, can I show you something?”

Bellamy looked back from the sink. “Yeah.”

Bellamy carefully washed and dried their dishes. He wiped down the counters and stove, put the leftover fritters in their freezer, and stored the used cooking oil for later. By the time he was done, Clarke had set up her display on the table. It had her favorite charcoal drawings on small scraps of sheet metal. Most depicted the land and sky of earth. 

Bellamy’s eyes widened as he saw them. “You did these?” 

“Yes, do you like them?”

Bellamy gingerly picked one up. “I wouldn’t know you’d never been to the ground.”

“That’s probably because you haven’t been to the ground either.”

“Maybe,” Bellamy chortled, “but they’re still good.”

Clarke bit her lip. “Do you think that I could draw you soon?”

“That depends,” Bellamy put down the sheet and crossed his arms. A dimple appeared on his cheek. “Are you going to use it later as evidence?”

“Only evidence of how _hot_ you are.”

Bellamy laughed.

“Someday I’ll say, lookie here, grandkid, see what a tight ass your grandpa had in the day. He was a real catch.”

Still smiling, Bellamy pulled Clarke in and kissed her, soft and sweet.

She closed her eyes for the moment it lasted, then opened them to look up at him. “Our first kiss.” 

He pulled back to examine her. “So those others don’t count?”

“No, they don’t.”

He smirked. “I think you need some sleep.”

Clarke swatted him and he laughed lightly.

Bellamy helped her carefully put away her drawings. Then they brushed their teeth, put on the old torn clothes that functioned as pajamas and headed to bed. Clarke had not succeeded in making the bed for the second time, and Bellamy insisted on straightening all the covers before they got in.

Clarke shut off the last light and then plunked onto the bed in the dark, but landed almost on top of Bellamy.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.” She moved over to give him plenty of room, keeping to her own half. 

The bed shook as Bellamy turned onto his side facing her, his eyes closed. Had he gotten closer? Clarke could feel his delicious heat warming her side. She casually shifted, getting a couple inches closer to him - entirely by coincidence, of course.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked.

“I’m okay, I could be warmer.”

“Would it help if I held you?”

“Yeah, it would.”

Gently, Bellamy wrapped an arm around her. She turned to her side and burrowed her face in his shoulder, sighing in satisfaction. He smelled like corn fritters.

“Thank you,” she said. “You make a good heating pad.”

Bellamy mumbled a response, already half asleep. Clarke was left contemplating the day’s victory. She could turn this political marriage around - she really could. But as if summoned by her good luck, the mystery of the red-beaded necklace came back to her. If he hadn’t given it to her, and he hadn’t given it to his mom, then who? A gift that like that had to be for someone important to him, probably someone she hadn’t even met. She felt her chest tighten. What if Bellamy’s attempts to get Clarke to break off the marriage weren’t just political? What if he’d already been in a relationship when he was assigned to marry her, and simply by trying to make things work with him, Clarke was taking him away from someone he loved?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was hoping to have a chapter go out every week, but at this point I have to admit I'm too far behind for that! I may or may not have Chapter Five: Revenge of the Politics ready next week. Regardless, there will be delays. But have no fear, I have time set aside every week to work on this and it's only 7 chapters, so it will get finished!


	5. Chapter 5

Clarke and Bellamy didn’t have much time to see each other over the next few days. Her classes and apprenticeship kept her busy during the morning and afternoon, while he was on shift in the evening. He packed a lunch for her while she got ready in the morning, and she made extra dinner and set it aside for him to eat when he came home. But three days later, Bellamy finally had a couple nights off, and he promised Clarke the first evening would be hers. By then, the food in their fridge was reduced to miscellaneous bits of vegetables and carbs, so Clarke decided they should just cut it up and throw it into a pot.

Clarke de-strung the green beans, stealing glances at Bellamy as he stood a couple feet away, chopping potatoes. His shirt had short sleeves, letting her appreciate the casual movement of his muscles as he worked. Maybe someday she’d be able to appreciate those muscles without feeling self-conscious about it. He still felt like a stranger in her life, one who might disappear if she tried to pin him down. _Pin him down…_ dare she put that on the agenda for the night?

Bellamy haphazardly tried to cut several potatoes at a time, propelling one onto the floor. Clarke put a hand over her mouth to hold back her laughter. Bellamy noticed anyway and glared. It wasn’t fair to laugh, he’d never had a kitchen at home, but she couldn’t help it.

He held out the knife to her. “I think it’s time for her highness to wage war on these spuds, and for me to do the dainty work.”

“Okay.” She smiled and took the knife. Bellamy grabbed the ladle and stirred the onions and broth in the pot.

Above their heads, the station intercom sputtered to life.

 _People of The Ark, hear me know,_ Chancellor Jaha spoke. _We have survived for generations, strong and united..._

Bellamy snorted. Clarke cringed.

_...but we’ve all made sacrifices, and our hardships may be steeper in the next few months. Our engineering core has alerted us that critical environmental systems on The Ark are close to failure, and acquiring the parts to keep them running requires the closure of an existing facility. So beginning with quiet hours tonight, the lower storage facility on Factory Station will be shut down indefinitely._

Bellamy threw down the ladle, his jaw clenched.

_This facility was chosen because while it has advanced environmental controls, it is currently underutilized as storage for climate-sensitive materials. Space may be tighter without it, but I know we can make do. Let’s work together and make future generations proud of us._

Bellamy turned to Clarke. “Did you know about this?”

Clarke paused. Her mother had only convinced her to accept the marriage by warning her that critical systems were failing.

He crossed his arms. “You _did_.”

“ _No,_ not really. I was told there were some important mechanical failures, my father has been working constantly. But I didn’t know what it was or what their plans were to fix it.”

“We got hitched less than a week ago. Did they arrange our marriage to get everyone to accept facility closures?”

Clarke shoved aside the cutting board and threw off her apron. “ _Really?_ You refused to tell me what the Opposition wants from the marriage, and now you’re asking me about the Council?”

“I’m not the one who’s been preaching about partnerships and solving problems together.”

“Fine.” She sighed and leaned back against the counter. “I know the Council wanted to use the marriage to keep things calm when bad news hit. But they aren’t hatching evil plans and using us to get away with it. They’re making the best choices they can.”

He snorted. “Is that so? And I supposed rigging an election was the best choice they could make?”

“ _What?”_ Clarke stood up. “Please tell me you don’t believe that conspiracy theory.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

She threw her hands in the air. “Because it’s _provably_ false. There’s voting receipts at every station that show Jaha won without tampering.” 

“The Council manages everyone who counts those receipts.”

“That doesn’t mean they were miscounted. What proof do you have that Sydney won?”

“I have reliable sources.”

“Are those sources all part of the Opposition?”

He rolled his eyes. “Spoken as if your information doesn’t come from your mother.”

Clarke opened her mouth to retort and stopped herself. She drew in a breath and stepped toward Bellamy, uncrossing his arms and taking his hands in hers. He let her, and for a moment she stared into his dark eyes. His furrowed brow relaxed as he stared back.

“I’m sorry this is hard,” Clarke said. “Let’s set it aside and have dinner, okay?”

Bellamy squeezed her hands. “I know we agreed to avoid politics, but I can’t. That storage facility is where people on Factory go to sleep when the temperature in their compartment is too low. How I am supposed to sit and have dinner like nothing’s wrong when people on Factory could freeze to death tonight?”

“But… the Council doesn’t want anyone to freeze either. They _must_ have thought of that.”

“Like they thought of our frozen compartments?” Bellamy pulled his hands away. “I wanted to believe you when you said you would listen. But to do that, you’d have to admit that your mother makes bad choices.”

“She makes _hard_ choices. She works every minute of every day trying to find ways to keep the Ark alive. Maybe her choices aren’t perfect, but you also don’t know what constraints she and the Council are under. You heard Jaha say this was to keep critical environmental systems running. Without that, even more people would die. It’s about survival.”

“It’s _always_ about survival.” His voice rose. “Whenever the workers are pushed too far, survival is the Council’s hostage. How much are we supposed to take before it won’t cover their asses anymore?”

“I don’t know, but there has to be better time to revolt than this. The whole Ark needs those parts.”

“Funny how every time the Ark needs something, it comes out of places like Factory.”

“Where else would the parts come from?”

He paused, staring at her as though searching for something. When he spoke, his voice was measured. “The Library on Alpha. That facility has the same advanced climate controls to preserve those old books and paintings.”

“The _library?_ But... that’s our heritage. I know you love to mock War and Peace, but those classics have been preserved for hundreds of years. All the art on Earth has been reduced to just one room. Do you really want us to go back to the ground with nothing left?”

“No, I don’t _want_ that, but I think it’s a little hypocritical to be preserving old editions of _Oliver Twist_ and _Les Misérables_ while the real Olivers and Fantines are left to _die_.”

Clarke’s jaw dropped.

“Yes Clarke, I read classic literature. Don’t look so surprised.” Bellamy went to the door and grabbed his coat. 

“Bellamy... ” Clarke hurried after him. “You agreed we’d avoid politics. Then you promised me we’d spend this evening together. I’ve been doing my best to bridge this gap, but that won’t happen unless you reach from the other side.”

He grasped the door handle and paused. “Maybe we can’t bridge it anyway.”

Clarked crossed her arms. “Fine, leave. I don’t know why I bothered.”

He was out the door a moment later. 

Clarke sunk onto a stool, tears blurring her vision. She’d actually looked forward to her evening with Bellamy. She couldn’t blame him for being passionate about what was happening, or for being unable to sit still while people suffered. But no one _wanted_ people to suffer, so why was it so hard to bridge the gap between them? They couldn’t even agree on what should be objective facts. 

Once her tears dried, Clarke finished the stew. She ate dinner in silence and put the leftovers away. She fell asleep alone, and when she woke up, his side of the bed was still empty.

When would she see him again? Before, the business of planning the wedding and furnishing their compartment had pushed them to meet. But there was nothing in the marriage agreement that specified that he had to stay in their shared home or see her every so many days. In the unlikely event she’d already gotten pregnant from their wedding night, he could probably hide from her forever. He’d probably spent the night with his other lover, if he had one as she suspected. She’d resolved never to ask.

She was heading to class when she spotted two guards posted at a doorway across the Alpha Station market. Like she always did now, she paused and looked at their black-clad figures, just in case one of them was Bellamy. They weren’t, of course. She sighed. Arguing with him out in the open was the last thing she wanted, but if she saw him, she could at least request that he come home.

She started to move on, and paused. Those guards were posted outside the closed door of the Library. Since when did the library have dedicated guards?

Clarke hurried over.

“Sorry,” one of the guards raised her palm to Clarke. “Library’s closed. Should be back up by the end of the day.”

“What happened?”

The guard shrugged. “They didn’t tell us.” 

Clarked crossed her arms. “And why do you need to guard it, is a locked door not enough?”

“We’re hear to clear out loiters and gawkers,” the other guard said. “Which includes you.”

Clarke opened her mouth to retort.

“Clarke!” Wells called out from behind her.

Clarke turned away from the guards and met him in the market thoroughfare.

“Do you know what happened to the library?” she asked. She lowered her voice. “Was it the Opposition by any chance?”

He nodded. “Yeah, their mark was on the door early this morning, it’s been painted over already. And I’ve heard rumors about that closed facility on Factory.”

“It’s running again, isn’t it?”

Wells raised his brows. “How did you know that?”

Clarke hesitated. Bellamy could get in trouble.

Wells put a hand on her shoulder. “You can talk to me.”

She leaned in. “After the announcement last night, Bellamy told me that the Library had the same kinds of environmental controls as the storage facility. And then he left and didn’t come back home.”

“Wow. You earned his trust _fast_.”

“Trust? He was angry with me... I think.” Now that Clarke thought of it, Bellamy wouldn’t have lasted long in the Opposition if he always told people his motive for a crime before committing one. 

“Well Anthony stepped out for a bit last night, but he didn’t tell me anything like that.” Wells looked around the busy marketplace, as if searching for enemies in the crowd. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to enjoy marital bliss while I can. A contingent of guards just went out, I think to evict people from that storage facility and close it the second time. Things are about to get ugly.”

Clarke set her jaw. “Unless someone stops it. It’s time I talked with my mother.”

* * *

These days, Clarke’s parents were always putting out fires elsewhere. She expected to wait hours to see them. She didn’t expect to hear raised voices as soon as she cracked open the door to their home. She paused, listening.

“You can’t decide who lives and who dies in secrecy,” her father said. “People need to know this is more than a glitch.”

“No,” her mother said. “It’s too dangerous. We’ve only closed one facility and we’re already close to anarchy. If the Opposition knew the full extent of - ”

Silence fell.

The door was pulled open. Her father’s shoulders relaxed as he saw her. “Hi Kid.” He kissed her on the forehead. “You doing okay?”

“I’m okay.” Clarke said. “I need to talk to Mom.”

“I’ll let you get to it.” He stepped out the door and looked back at her mother. “Think about it. Please.”

Clarke came in and the door closed behind her. 

Her mother stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. She pulled back, looking Clarke in the eyes. “You’re truly alright? That man isn’t mistreating you?”

“No, it’s fine.”

Her mother let out a sign of relief.

“Well... it’s not really fine, but not because he’s a jerk.” Clarke paused. “Strangely.”

“So what is it then?” Her mother walked over to her tea kettle on the kitchen counter. “I’ll do what I can.”

Clarke sat at the table and folded her hands. “First, I need to know what you and Dad were talking about.”

Her mother sighed. “The council has ruled that confidential.”

“I already know environmental systems are failing, and that there’s a question of who lives and who dies. How many more facilities are coming down?”

“You do not know as much as you think you do.” Her mother put down the kettle and crossed her arms. “I’m not burdening you with any more than I have to.”

Clarke frowned, examining her mother’s grave expression. She had dark circles under her eyes and the new lines on her forehead. She had already told Clarke that the mechanical failure could cost many lives. What did it mean that the truth was a bigger burden than that? And what her father had said about deciding who dies...

“Mom,” Clarke spoke quietly, “is there going to be a culling?”

Her mother’s eyes widened. She took Clarke’s hands. “We don’t know that yet. The Ark can’t support us all, but we’re investigating alternatives.”

“Alternatives? What alternatives are there?”

Her mother shook her head. “No. You’ve already gotten enough from me. And you need to promise me you won’t tell anyone about this.”

Clarke bit her lip. Her mother was right that the information is dangerous, but what if telling Bellamy could prevent riots and violence?

“Clarke, telling someone could get you floated.” Her mother took Clarke’s chin in her hand, forcing Clarke to look her in the eye. “Promise me.”

“Okay. I promise.”

Her mother let go and slid into the other chair, letting a long breath out.

Clarke continued. “I also know a part was stolen from the Library to reopen that storage facility.”

“You and the whole Ark.” Her mother waved a hand. “Our latest PR disaster.”

Clarked huffed. “This disaster wouldn’t be happening if you’d closed the Library in the first place.”

“We considered it. We didn’t have the votes.”

“That’s it? That’s best reason you can come up with?”

Her mother gave her a stern look. “We still live in a democracy.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “So why did our _democracy_ vote against closing the Library?”

“To preserve our heritage, you know that. A few people thought the storage facility was the lesser sacrifice and held out.”

“Do those _few people_ happen to live on Alpha?”

“I can’t tell who it was, only that I wasn’t one of them.”

Clarke pushed away from the table. “But you’re covering for them instead of fighting them. This is why the Opposition sees the entire Council as their enemy.” Clarke leaned on the table, looking down at her mother. “Tell me the truth: was the Chancellor’s election rigged?”

 _“What?!”_ Her mother stood up. “Don’t tell me you’re listening to Opposition propaganda now. Of course it wasn’t rigged.”

Clarke let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “I believe you, but I have to be sure.”

“I can grant access to the records at the voting centers, if that would help. But the truth has never mattered to the Opposition. They’re happy to make up lies if it will stir up outrage.”

“They don’t need lies for that, they only need to provoke you.” Clarke approached and took her mother’s hands, “That’s why you can’t close that storage facility on Factory again.”

“You’re suggesting we let them win.”

“They win either way, that’s why they did it. But if you let things stand, at least you won’t be escalating the conflict.”

“Clarke, it practically gives them permission to do it again.”

“But they’ll be less likely to, because they’ll be less angry.”

Her mother stood in silence for a moment, frowning.

“You brought me into this to help you keep peace on the Ark,” Clarked continued. “I’m telling you what you need to do to keep the peace. And if the other council members want to hold out again, maybe they’ll think twice if they know you’ll fight them over it publicly this time. Please.”

Her mother crossed her arms. “Doing this will make me enemies. We’d better hope it actually works.”

* * *

Bellamy lounged on the lower bunk in his mother’s compartment, pretending to read. Really, he’d been staring at the same page of The Odyssey for a while now, but the appearance of reading told his family that he wanted some quiet time, a precious commodity in their compact living space. This afternoon, he really _had_ tried to read, but the betrayed look on Clarke’s face when he last saw her kept interrupting. 

It turned out that years spent avoiding committed relationships had made Bellamy terrible at relationships. What a surprise. Clake had been trying so hard to make things work between them, and he hadn’t realized how little work he’d put into it until she said she wouldn’t bother anymore. Looking back with painful hindsight, he’d been approaching their relationship like it was fake. Now he knew he’d somehow gotten himself into a real relationship, with someone he actually respected. And he’d just been dumped.

Bellamy had already apologized to Clarke once for lying to drive her away. It had taken her a while to move on from that. Now he’d broken the promises he made to her in all seriousness. What could he possibly say that would convince her he’d do better next time? Maybe he wouldn’t. 

He sighed.

“Bell, I need your advice,” Octavia said from the table, where she was stitching a hem.

“On what?” 

“What do you do when you have a guest that won’t take any of your hints to leave?”

He frowned. “Mom handles all the guests, O.”

“Except for one. And he’s already slept over, had breakfast, then lunch, and I still can’t get him to go home to his poor wife.”

Bellamy closed his book and glared at her.

“Well? I’m asking a question here.”

He pulled himself upright. “You should meet Clarke before you start taking pity on her. She’s too formidle to be anyone’s _poor wife,_ and I doubt she wants me back right now.”

Octavia raised a brow. “What did you do?”

“I promised to spend an evening with her, and instead I started a political argument and stormed off.”

“The politics were important. You said she’s into politics, so she’ll get that.” 

“I also told her I didn’t think we could make things work.”

Octavia paused her sewing to stare him down. “Well I guess you have some groveling to do. Stop procrastinating and get to it.”

“She doesn’t have a reason to take me back, O.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “Yes she does. She cares about you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I _do_. She came to visit Mom and I heard her. She really wanted to know what your favorite meal was.”

“That’s only because I chewed her out for not caring about those things.”

“So you complained, and then next thing she’s barging in and begging Mom so she can make you happy? And that’s not good enough for you?” Octavia threw down her sewing. “You’re such a jerk, Bell.”

Bellamy lifted his hands in surrender. “Maybe I am. Don’t you think she’s probably tired of that?”

“I’m starting to wonder.”

“See? She deserves her space.”

A click sounded from the wall, and the intercom beeped to life.

 _People of The Ark,_ Chancellor Jaha spoke. _It has been a tough day for all us..._

“Try a day under the floor.” Octavia muttered.

_… but the council is dedicated to bringing the Ark together. To that end, they have voted that the lower storage facility on Factory Station will remain open. In its place, the Library on Alpha Station will remain closed._

Bellamy and Octavia exchanged a stunned glance.

_We are working to find appropriate storage for all of the vital cultural works the Library housed..._

“Personal compartments on Alpha, I bet.” Bellamy said, but the comment didn’t have any real bite to it. 

_… in the meantime, we ask that the crowds blocking facility entrances disperse so that our maintenance team has the access they need to ensure everyone’s safety. Peace be with you._

Octavia crossed her arms. “It’s almost as if you know someone with influence on the council.”

The corner of Bellamy’s mouth quirked up. “I know you don’t actually want me to leave you alone here, O.”

“I want my brother to be happy. Get lost.”

* * *

After a long day, Clarke plodded wearily back to her compartment, a precious data pad in hand. She’d heard the announcement proving that her mother had succeeded in convincing the council to change their minds. She had allowed herself a little victory dance at the time, but she had a much harder task ahead: finding a way to talk to her husband. She wished she could just hunt him down and tell him that she was the one who convinced her mother and thereby the council to relent, but she had no proof of that. Saying it would just make her sound like she was arrogant or lying. 

Well, she could only tackle one thing at a time, and the next thing she had to tackle was going home to her lonely compartment and eating leftover breakup stew for dinner. She was probably too exhausted to heat it up again. Cold leftover breakup stew.

Her compartment door opened, and a warm gust carrying the aroma of muffins wafted over her. Bellamy was wearing her apron as he wiped down the kitchen counter.

Clarke closed the door and leaned back against it, her mouth open.

Hearing the door close, Bellamy turned and stared back at her.

“I didn’t know you -” Clarke started.

“I just wanted to -” Bellamy said at the same time, and stopped.

Bellamy chuckled and looked down bashfully. “I, uh, asked Wells what your favorite food was. He said it was lemon cake, but I definitely can’t bake a cake. So I hope some tragically hard lemon muffins will do.”

Clarke smiled. “Thank you.”

“No,” Bellamy shook his head. “I need to thank _you_ , for listening last night even though I was harsh. Thank you for convincing the council to back off.”

“How did you know it was me?”

Bellamy laughed. “The council has _never_ backed off before. Of course it was you, what else?”

“Well…” Clarke took a timid step toward him. “You can thank me by looking at this.” She held out the data pad.

Bellamy took it. “What is it?”

“Election data. It has all the totals from each voting center, and you can verify all of it by visiting the voting centers yourself. My mother promised you would have access.”

Bellamy’s straight brows furrowed as he examined the pad. 

Clarke sat on a stool at the table and grabbed a muffin off a plate on the time. She bite into it. The texture had more than a passing resemblance to a rock. 

Bellamy sat down across from her. “It’ll be risky, but I’ll go to the voting centers. If these numbers are right... we all know Sydney spins things to give us more support. But this is different. Winning the chancellorship means a lot to us, not just for the influence, but because only the Chancellor can issue pardons. Many of us, or our loved ones, will need one someday. If she didn’t rightfully win the election, we have to find a more viable candidate to support next time. But even if she’s lying to stay in power, and I manage to prove that to the rest of the leadership, ousting her won’t be easy.”

Clarke nodded. “Of course. I just wanted us to understand each other.”

Bellamy gestured to her half-eaten muffin. “I think we both understand that I’ll have to make another attempt at an apology meal.”

“Their _flavor_ is good.”

“The princess is gracious to her subjects.”

“Stop!” Clarke swatted at him. “They’re hard, I’ll grant you that, but I can probably break them up and make a crumb pudding or cereal.”

“If anyone can defeat these muffins, I’m sure you can.” Bellamy smirked. Then he slowly reached out across the table and gently took Clarke’s hand. “I’m sorry I ran off last night, but I’m here now, assuming you still want me here. We can do… whatever you’d like.”

Clarke examined the table, feeling her face grow hot. She knew what she wanted to do, but if she mentioned it, would he feel pressured to break a promise to someone else? She hadn’t planned to ask himself about his personal life.

Bellamy leaned forward to catch her eye. “What is it?”

“I know you don’t want me to ask you questions, and you don’t have to answer this one...”

Bellamy squeezed her hand. “You can ask.”

“Umm, so the day we met, I saw you buy a necklace from the market. And since, I’ve been wondering who it was for. You don’t have to give me a name, I just… did our marriage tear you away from someone you love? Is that why you were trying so hard to get me to call it off?”

Bellamy hesitated. “Yes.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.” Bellamy stood, pulling Clarke up with him. He wrapped his arms around her. “That other person is okay. And I wouldn’t change anything.”

“Really? You actually want to be with me?” Clarke examined his face, but she found no hint of mockery. He was staring down at her, pupils wide and lips slightly parted.

“You’re an incredible person,” Bellamy said, “and I had no idea how lucky I was when I was chosen for you.”

Clarke got on her toes and kissed him. He tightened his arms around her, and she pulled him toward the bedroom. They stumbled a few steps in that direction. 

Then Bellamy wrenched himself free to look at her critically. “You haven’t had dinner, have you?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the concern, _Mom_ , but the few bites I’ve had are weighing in my stomach like a whole meal. And now I have _other_ things on my mind.”

Clarke grabbed the adorable apron Bellamy was still wearing. He smiled and came along with her as she backed toward the bed. She ran her hands through his hair, and then gently grabbed a handful of curling black locks, using it to tilt his head to the side so she could work her lips up his neck to his jaw. He ran his hands up the back of her shirt and under her bra, his fingers working at the clasp. The back of Clarke’s knees bumped against the edge of their bed.

“Wait,” Clarke pulled away. “ _You_ need dinner, don’t you? I’m sorry, I can heat up some leftover soup...”

Bellamy bent down and lifted her into a bridal carry. Clarke yelped in surprised and grabbed his shoulders, afraid of falling.

Bellamy smirked. “Do not trouble yourself on my behalf, oh golden-haired princess, for I treated myself to a four course meal shortly before your arrival.”

Clarke pinched his freckled cheek. “You are a _liar_.”

His eyes widened innocently. “I would not lie to her highness! Just don’t ask what those courses were.”

“You didn’t manage to eat four of those rock muffins?”

“Let’s just say the mixing bowl is very clean.”

“Muffin batter?! That is _not_ nutritionally sound.”

Bellamy touched his forehead to hers. “I’ll get by.” 

They kissed again, and Clark worked at the knot trying the apron around his neck. Then she paused, “Are you sure you don’t need - ”

Bellamy dropped her.

Clarke landed on the bed with a squawk. “That’s not how knights treat princesses!”

Bellamy jumped on the bed after her. He scooped her up in his arms again. “I’m a knight now?”

“I’ve knighted you.”

He cupped her chin in his hand and batted his eyelashes at her. “Then why don’t you show me how a knight should treat a princess.”

She did.


	6. Chapter 6

Over the next week Clarke and Bellamy spent as much time together as they could, but it wasn’t enough. When they finally managed to settle in for an old movie, there was a mysterious knock on the door and Bellamy went off somewhere. Clarke pointedly paid no attention to the visit, though she thought she heard Anthony outside the door. A resentful part of her wanted to demand that Bellamy put some priority on his wife, but considering how they’d hooked up, that didn’t seem reasonable. However, when he came back from his mysterious errand he got on his knees before her, and that was its own fun.

“Breakfast’s ready,” he called to her the following morning.

Clarke finished braiding her hair and came out to the kitchen. “Hmm… breakfast. Whatever could that be? Is it lemony and rocky?”

“What? No.” Bellamy kissed her on the forehead. Then he smirked. “It’s been soaking in the oat milk far too long to be rock-like. Completely transformed.”

“Oh!” Clarke put her hand to her mouth in mock surprise. “I must try this new delicacy!”

Bellamy pulled out her stool, bowing over it. “Just don’t get too attached, princess. Believe it or not, this is the last of my lemony mistakes. For my next disaster, I was thinking -”

The door burst open. Half a dozen guards with guns raised rushed through. Bellamy had barely put his arms up when the guards pulled them behind him, forcing him to kneel.

“What are you doing?!” Clarked tried to reach Bellamy, but a guard pushed her roughly back.

“Clarke, don’t.” Bellamy said as his hands were cuffed. “Stay back, show them you won’t interfere.” 

A guard with a captain’s badge stepped out in front of him. “Bellamy Blake, you’re under arrest for sabotage, theft of communal property, and unauthorized access to restricted areas.”

“Griffin.”

“What’s that?” The captain asked.

“My name is Bellamy Griffin.”

She rolled her eyes. “Take him out of here.”

As the guards dragged Bellamy away, Clarke was finally released. She marched up to the captain. “What is this?”

“I’ve got this, Captain,” Clarke’s mother said from the door. Her clothes were rumpled and her eyes careworn.

“Mom?” Clarke looked to her, tears filling her eyes. “You said this wouldn’t happen.”

Her mother wrapped her in a hug. Clarke leaned on her.

“I’m so sorry,” her mother said soothingly. “I should never have insisted you get married. But it’s over now, we’ll have it annulled.”

Clarke pulled away. “What? No! You can’t just tell me to get married and then tell me my marriage isn’t real.”

Her mother raised her hands in surrender. “I just thought you’d want -”

“Well that’s _not_ what I want, I want my husband back. You promised you weren’t going to arrest him like this.”

Her mother reached for Clarke’s hands, but Clarke pulled them away. 

Her mother sighed. “We agreed not to put him or Anthony under any extra scrutiny, and we haven’t. But I can’t let him flagrantly disobey the law because he’s my daughter’s husband.”

“You seemed fine with it before.”

“Before we had no proof. Now we do. He’s one of the saboteurs responsible for the broken mill and the theft of equipment from the library.”

Clarke drew in a long breath. After all the progress they’d made, Bellamy was going to die. Die before they made the Ark a better place together, or she got to see him cook something successfully, or they even finished that movie. She felt the tears building behind her eyes, and furiously pushed those thoughts away. As long as he was still breathing, there was hope. 

“Clarke…” her mother put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Clarke pushed it off. “Why now?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never been able to catch the saboteurs before. If you thought you were close, you would floated them instead of arranging the marriages for them.”

“Alright, we have a new source. That’s all I can say.”

Clarke bit her lip. Before this all started, she might have assumed this new source was trustworthy and irrefutable. After all, Bellamy probably did exactly what he was being accused of. Now she knew that when it came to politics, people were rarely what they seemed. What if it wasn’t a lawful citizen that send them evidence, but Sydney? Bellamy had been investigating whether she’d been lying to stay in power, that was motive enough for betraying him. But even if Sydney was behind it, how could Clarke convince her mother?

“I think you should come home for now,” her mother said gently. “Your father will be taking a break to check on you, and we can all have breakfast together.”

“I’m not going to have breakfast like we’re a happy family when Bellamy is in a cell alone. Alone...” Clarke’s eyes widened as a realization hit her. “Did that source tell you the names of all the saboteurs, or just Bellamy?”

Her mother paused. “All of them?”

“Yes, they work together.” She tried to say it confidently, as though it were an obvious fact instead of a wild guess. “If you only received evidence for Bellamy, it means your source isn’t trying to stop the opposition, just eliminate _him_. And I know why.”

Her mother’s brows shot up. “I’m listening.”

Clarke glanced around the compartment. Several guards were still milling around. She stepped closer. “After I passed on that data you gave me about the election, he’s visited at least one voting center. If Sydney found out, she could be covering her tracks.”

“Sydney isn’t our source.”

“But she could be _behind_ the person who is. The timing’s suspicious, isn’t it?”

“I admit you’ve given me some things to consider. But also I think you’re seeing what you want to see. I’m sorry, I didn’t realized how hard this would be for you. If we could just - ” Her mother tried to herd Clarke out the door.

Clarke backed away, her voice rising. “You want to know why it’s just us, and them, with no one in between? It’s because whenever someone isn’t perfectly loyal to them, all the opposition has to do is hand you some evidence, and you’ll float them.”

Her mother rubbed her forehead. “Bellamy is a handsome young man and he must have been good to you, but he was loyal to them. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been sabotaging the station.”

“What if he gave you enough evidence to convict Sydney?”

“That never happens. However they do it, opposition agents don’t testify.”

Clarke grabbed her mother’s hands. “But if he did?”

Her mother paused to give Clarke a piercing look. “If he did, I _might_ be able to get him a pardon.”

Clarke smiled and hugged her. “You arrange the pardon, and I’ll get him to turn.”

From across the room, the captain cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Councilor, but the two of you need to clear out so we can search the premises.”

Her mother nodded. “Of course.”

Clarke sighed. She shouldn’t be surprised. They’d just dragged away her husband, so of course they were going to tear through her things. She linked her arm with her mother’s and they stepped through the doorway.

Just as it closed, she heard the captain call out to her officers.

“Listen up. We don’t want to leave a mess here, but I need everything catalogued, from above the ceiling to beneath the floor. If we stay on task, we can cover this and the one on Factory before lunch.”

The one on Factory? Clarke paused before following her mother down the hall. They would be searching his mother’s compartment too. Aurora would learn her son would float soon, if she hadn’t already. Clarke had promised he would be okay, but simply by trying to get through to Bellamy, she’d doomed him.

* * *

Bellamy laid on the metal bench in his jail cell, his side burning from where his fellow guards had hit him a few extra times for good measure. But it was nothing compared to the pain of knowing he’d be leaving Octavia, Clarke, and his mother to manage without him.

Though he tried not to, he couldn’t help trying to answer Clarke’s silly time machine question. If he could go back, what could he have done differently? Should he have stayed in Sydney’s good graces, knowing she was turning the Opposition into her personal cult and preventing Octavia from getting the pardon she needed to live a normal life? Should he have refused to marry Clarke, losing his place in the Opposition, his career in the guard, and never learning what an amazing person she was? Or maybe he shouldn’t have joined the Opposition in the first place. Instead of fighting to change things, he could have simply tried to make the best of what they had. He could have snuck Octavia into that masquerade dance, so she had real fun for one night.

The metal door groaned and slid inward. Footsteps came closer. Bellamy braced himself for an interrogation. Instead, warm arms wrapped around him. He hugged Clarke back, burying his face in her blond hair, smelling jasmine on her for what was probably the last time.

After a few moments, they broke apart. Clarke helped him into a sitting position and sat beside him on the metal bench. She ran a comfortably cool hand along his forehead and cheek. Her gaze focused on the places that stung. “They didn’t have to do this to you.” 

“Don’t waste your energy protesting. I’ll float soon anyway.”

“No,” Clarke’s blue eyes shone. “We’re going to get you a pardon.”

Bellamy let out a wry laugh. “Jaha’s not going to pardon me.”

“He will if you give him something that leads to Sydney’s arrest.”

“Clarke…” He reached out a hand to stroke her cheek. “I can’t rat on Sydney.”

“ _What?_ Why not?” Clarke took his face in her hands. “She put you in here. Didn’t she?”

“Probably.”

“And she’d been lying to the Opposition.”

“Looks like.”

“And if you don’t, you’ll _die_.

“Yes.” He sighed. “But she has dirt on _everyone_. If she floats, she could take a lot of people with her. She might even earn her own pardon doing it. I can’t save myself if it means Anthony and all the others will die instead.”

“There has to be some way… maybe if they promise not to accept evidence from her.”

“They’re not going to do that.” Bellamy pulled Clarke to him. “Please... just promise me you’ll keep pressing them for justice. And that you’ll look after my mother. Does she know yet?”

Clarke buried her head in his chest. “I don’t think she knows yet, but she will as soon as the guards tear her compartment apart.”

Bellamy stiffened. “What did you say?”

Clarke lifted up her head to gaze at him with red-rimmed eyes. “They’re going to search your mother’s compartment, any minute now.”

Bellamy’s chest tightened as his heart sped up. Octavia had survived many inspections over the years, but they’d always had warning ahead of time, and Bellamy hadn’t been under suspicion. The search they did on criminals caught engaging in theft or trading contraband wasn’t the same as a casual inspection. His mother wouldn’t even be home right now to buy Octavia time. They would burst in, pull up the floorboards, and she would be done for. 

“Bellamy?” Clarke’s brow furrowed. “Is there something in there?”

Bellamy looked at an upper corner of the cell, where the status light on a camera blinked. If he whispered to Clarke, would it be inaudible? He couldn’t bet Octavia’s life on that. But there wasn’t time for Clarke to go looking for his mother. Somehow he had to get Clarke to save Octavia without giving anything away.

“I’m not worried about any evidence in there,” Bellamy said. “But my mom has to hear from you. So I need you to leave now and go talk to her.”

Clarke shook her head. “Oh no, we are not done discussing Sydney.”

Bellamy took her hands and squeezed them. “Do this for me, right now, and I’ll do anything you ask. Please.”

Clarke opened her mouth as if to argue, and then stopped abruptly. “You’ll testify against Sydney?”

“If that’s what you really want. But please, you need to go now, straight to my mother’s compartment. Use that key I gave you to get in.”

“Okay,” Clarke stood. “I’ll be back soon.”

“And then you have to make sure she leaves with you. She can’t be there when the guards come or she could get hurt.”

“Don’t worry, your mother will be okay.” Clarked started for the door, but Bellamy caught her wrist. She blinked and stared back at him.

“One last thing.” He reeled her back in so he could lower his voice. “Sometimes... when trouble happens, she hides.”

Clarke smiled gently. “It’s a tiny compartment, I’m sure I’ll find her.”

“No.”

“No?” Clarke’s brows lifted.

“She’s really good at hiding. If you don’t see her there, just start talking to the empty room. Tell her what’s happening. Say I said to trust you.”

Clarke was looking at him like he had put his clothes on backwards and started juggling geese.

“Please, I need you to do this.” 

Clarke managed to close her open mouth. She nodded. “You can explain about her afterward.”

Clarke hurried from the room, and Bellamy let out a sigh of relief. Now he just had to pray that Clarke would get there in time, that she would get into the compartment without a problem, that she would say the right things to get Octavia to come out, and finally, that they would sneak Octavia somewhere safe without being caught. 

* * *

Clarke knocked on Aurora Blake’s compartment. When she didn’t answer, Clarke knocked again. Bellamy had said she might be hiding, but… if she hadn’t hid the last time Clarke knocked, why would she do it now? She didn’t know the guards were coming, if she did, there would be no point in coming to warn her. Nothing about this made sense.

Clarke finally took out his key and unlocked the door. If she wanted him to testify, she had to follow his directions, weird though they were.

The compartment was empty. Just to be sure, Clarke shifted the blankets on the bunks and looked under the work table. The drawers were all real, so there wasn’t space for his mother in the dresser. There was literally nowhere a human being could be in this tiny place. Had the guards given Bellamy some drugs? Maybe it was to loosen him up for interrogation. She should have stayed to stop them. 

She would just talk to the empty room, like he asked, and then she would be done. She cleared her throat. 

“Umm, hi.” Boy this was awkward. “It’s Clarke, again. Bellamy told me to come here, because any moment now, the guard is going to be here to search the place, floor to ceiling. He said to tell you that you can trust me. And he wants you to leave with me before they come.”

Clarke stood there. Neither the bunks nor the table replied.

“Hello?” she tried one last time. 

She sighed. Yep, it was drugs. She turned and headed back to the door. 

A quiet bang and a scrapping sound came from behind her. Clarke jumped and backed herself against the door.

A young woman was crawling out of a hole in the floor by the table. She was about Clarke’s age, with delicate brows and long lashes. Around her neck were the same red beads that Clarke had seen Bellamy purchase at the Alpha station market. This was the other woman. That’s who Bellamy had really sent her here for, not his mother. The woman must be a wanted criminal, that’s why she was hiding. Was she an opposition member that the guards had never found?

“Clarke?” The woman said. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Weren’t you expecting me?”

She knew Clarke’s name. Bellamy had told her all about his marriage, of course, because he loved her. Clarke had to keep her safe for him. “Yes, of course I was, Bellamy just… we didn’t have a lot of opportunity to talk.”

“Well let’s get out of here.” The woman opened a drawer. She threw on a baggy sweater and tucked the full length of her brunette hair into a hat. “Hopefully this will keep anyone from realizing I don’t belong. Where are we going? I don’t have an ID card.”

“That’s okay, I can get us into Alpha Station without one. We’ll just need to make sure the guards have left my compartment, and you can hide in there.” Clarke opened the door.

“Oh - wait.” The young woman reached into the hole in the floor. She took out some ancient handheld device and placed the cover back over her hiding place. “Bellamy wouldn’t want the guards to take all the dirt he’s been digging up on Sydney.”

“Good thinking.” Clarke opened the door again, and this time the woman joined her outside.

Clarke took ten steps before she realized her new companion wasn’t following. The woman was staring up and down the corridor, wide eyed.

“Is something wrong?” Clarke asked. 

“No, this is just the first time… I feel so strange.” The woman took a few ginger steps forward.

“Umm…” Clarked bit her lip. What did that mean? Were there still drugs involved in this situation? She glanced around and lowered her voice. “You’re going to have to move faster than that. If the guards see me on their way here, they’ll be suspicious, and they’ll probably catch you.”

“Right.” The woman smiled. “Faster it is.”

Clarke sighed in relief as her companion sped up. They proceeded at an even walk, and then a fast walk, and then the woman starting running down the corridor. Clarke chased after her. What the hell had Clarke gotten herself into?

Clarke grabbed her arm. “Stop!”

The woman halted. “What?”

“You can’t just run down the corridor.”

“Why not?”

“Because people don’t do that, and we can’t draw attention to ourselves. _Please._ ”

“Okay.” The woman smiled ruefully. “Sorry, that just felt amazing.”

Holding back a retort, Clarke took her hand. “Let’s just take this together, one step at a time.”

“Thank you, Clarke.” The woman said as they proceeded together. “You’re obviously a kind person, and you’re good for Bellamy, even when he doesn’t realize it.”

She didn’t know that Bellamy had been arrested. Clarke’s stomach clenched. She would have to break it the news. But first things first. “I’m sorry, but he didn’t tell me your name.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Bell? I’m going to have to talk to him.”

“It’s not his fault, he didn’t have time.” Clarke smiled to conceal the envy growing inside her. This woman seemed so familiar with Bellamy. She knew everything about him and Clarke, and Clarke knew nothing about her.

“You might be giving him too much credit, but I’ll take your word for it this time,” the woman smiled. “I’m Octavia.”

 _Octavia…_ very few fugitives avoided the guard for any length of time, and Clarke had never heard of one by that name. Of course, Octavia had probably changed it.

“Clarke?” Octavia stopped short.

“What?”

“I can’t walk.”

Clarke sighed. “What is it now -” she stopped mid sentence as she looked at Octavia’s strange position. “Your shoes are stuck, aren’t they?”

“Yeah. Bellamy told me about this, but I forgot.”

“It’s okay, we’ll -”

Boots clattered rhythmically one hall down. The guard was coming. Untying Octavia’s shoes would look suspicious, and there weren’t any side doors they could dart into even if they had the time. 

“I know that sound,” Octavia said. “What do we do?”

“Keep calm,” Clarke said. “Crouch down over your shoes and fiddle with them like you’re trying to free yourself.”

Octavia nodded and crouched, keeping her head down as she examined her shoes. Clarke crouched down after her and took her hair out of the braid she’d worn earlier. If the guard recognized Clarke so close to the next compartment they were sent to search, they could be suspicious enough to investigate.

The stomping grew closer. Would they understand that Clarke and Octavia were crouching because of an everyday shoe disaster or would they stop to find out what was going on?

Clarke listened, waiting until she thought the guards had turned into the corridor. Then she said loudly, “Don’t worry, the heat will turn on soon and our shoes will thaw out.”

Octavia sucked in a breath, looking at Clarke with wild eyes. Clarke squeezed Octavia’s arm gently as guards passed on either side of them, willing her not to do something strange and reckless.

“You okay?” A guard called.

“Yep,” Clarke replied without looking up. “Just waiting.”

Then the guards were past them, exiting the corridor. Clarke and Octavia collectively let out a breath.

Thankfully the rest of the trip to Alpha Station was uneventful, or as uneventful as it could be with Octavia pausing to gawk at things every ten feet. Finally, they were safely in Clarke and Bellamy’s compartment. 

“I’m sorry it’s a mess, it was just searched.” Clarke went to tidy up the clothes strewn everywhere, but just put them in a pile. “Also, we don’t have a dresser or anything, so…”

“No problem.” Octavia was opening the kitchen cupboards and looking in them. “Maybe it’s because this is only the second compartment I’ve seen, but it’s amazing. And huge, like Bellamy said.”

Clarke plopped down on a stool. “Well it’s not huge for Alpha, but - wait. Did you just say this is only the second compartment you’ve seen? _Ever?_ ”

Octavia gave her a quizzical look. “Well yeah. I grew up in my mother’s compartment.”

“Okay, but…” Clarke frowned. “Even if you’ve never visited anyone, that’s still your mother’s compartment, Bellamy’s compartment - his old one I mean, and then this one. That’s three.”

Octavia sat on the other stool and stared across the table. “Clarke, what do you think my relationship to Bellamy is?”

“Oh, umm, that’s none of my business, not really.” Clarke shifted, feeling her face grow hot. “I know you were important to him before I came along, and I would never -”

Octavia’s jaw dropped. “You think I’m his _girlfriend_.”

“Well I… ”

“Gross." Octavia made a disgusted face. "That would mean he was having an affair with me, too. And you still came to get me?”

“He’s… not having an affair? He said he loved you.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “He’s my brother.”

“Brother? But that’s not poss…” no one had siblings anymore. But what if someone did? The second child would have to be hidden, or any parents involved would be floated. “Oh.”

“Now you get it.” Octavia frowned. “Since I’m not in the Skybox right now, I have to assume you’re trustworthy, but Bellamy didn’t send you, did he?”

“No, he did, I swear. It’s just… I’m sorry, he was arrested, and we were talking in his cell. I think he could say much because we were being recorded.”

Octavia put a hand over her mouth.

“I’m so sorry,” Clarke got up and pulled her into a hug.

Octavia hugged her back. “You have connections, so you can get him out, right?”

“I’m trying, but I need him to try too. However, he said if I brought you to safety, he’ll testify against Sydney. That gives me a chance at least.”

Octavia snorted softly. “If he gives you any more trouble, tell him that I’ll go chat with the head of law enforcement myself. In person.”

Clarke smiled. She wasn’t sure what siblings were normally like, but these two obviously cared about each other a great deal. “I’ll tell him.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making you wait so long! I hope you enjoy the end.

Clarke got out the leftovers from her second batch of fritters for Bellamy’s sister to eat. _Bellamy’s sister._ The words were still shocking, but they also made perfect sense. That’s why he had fought so hard against the marriage - it meant leaving the compartment his sister was stuck in. He’d said that getting pardons was essential to many people in the Opposition, and now Clarke understood that it was Octavia’s only chance to live a normal life. That’s what Bellamy fought for.

“Here,” Clarke set the fritters in front of Octavia. “Sorry, they’re a lot better fresh.”

Octavia’s eyes widened as she snatched up her fork. “Pancakes? They look great.” she poked at the center. “What are these lumps?”

“They’re actually corn fritters, so that’s corn.”

Octavia looked at her skeptically. “I mean these,” she gestured at them again. “They’re a little big and squishy for corn.”

Clarke bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Those are corn kernels.”

“Kernels? Oh. So _this_ is what they grind corn meal from.” Octavia nibbled on the edges of a fritter. “Tastier than our algae rations.”

“Most things are tastier than algae.” Clarked smiled. “Will you be okay here? I need to get back to Bellamy.”

Octavia put her fork down. “Does my mother know I’m here?”

“I’m not even sure she knows Bellamy’s been arrested yet.”

“Then you need to tell her. If she gets home and finds I’m gone, she’ll assume the worst.” 

Clarke nodded. She desperately wanted to check on Bellamy, but he’d want her to look after his mother. “Where is she?”

“She should be out doing fittings on Orchid Station right now. One of her clients is the director of the Resource Commission, try there first. Sorry, that’s all I know.”

“It’s okay, I’ll find her.” Clarke headed toward the door, sighing. “I’m sure she’ll love me once she knows I got her son arrested.” 

“Clarke?”

Clarke paused to look back.

“This isn’t your fault.”

Clarke smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

* * *

Clarke hurried to the Resources Commission at Orchid station, but the director was in a meeting. Clarke had to wait twenty minutes to speak to her, and she told Clarke that Aurora had come and gone over an hour ago. The director also didn’t know what other clients she had on the station.

So Clarke found the clothing sellers in the station’s small market and asked if they knew Aurora. A few of them did, but the three clients they directed her to either weren’t seeing her that day or had already seen her.

After wasting over an hour in her fruitless search, Clarke decided the only thing she could do was head back to the compartment on Factory and wait for Aurora to come home. She would cross her fingers that Aurora wouldn’t learn the news first or come home only after it was too late to help Bellamy. 

She has just entered Factory Station when someone grabbed her wrist. She jumped.

“Sorry,” Wells said. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I was just relieved I found you first. We need to speak in private, follow me.”

“Wells…” Clarke followed him a few him a few steps and then grabbed his arm to pull him back. “I can’t. I have to tell Bellamy’s mother about what happened today.”

“I’m sorry, it’s too late.” Wells shook his head. 

Clarke’s stomach knotted. “What do you mean, it’s too late?”

“Come on,” Wells grabbed her wrist again and pulled.

Clarke went with him, dreading what she’d learn when they reached their destination. Strangely, they didn’t leave Factory, instead Wells took a turn down a long side corridor to the edge of the station and knocked on a compartment door there.

Anthony opened it. “You found her. Good.” He ushered them in.

Anthony’s Factory Station compartment was bigger than Bellamy’s, but only barely. It had the same built in bunks and narrow living space, but the room was a few feet wider, and there was a cubby for the sink and toilet. No one other than Anthony was home.

“What’s happening?” Clarke asked as soon as the door closed behind her. “Why is it too late to find Aurora?”

Wells shared a concerned glance with his husband and spoke quietly. “By piecing together what we’ve heard from the Council and the Opposition, we think she came home while the guards were searching her compartment. Apparently she demanded to know what they had done with her _daughter_. We also heard there was a scuffle, and she got injured. The guards are saying she attacked them, but… we’re not sure if that’s true.”

Clarke put her hand over her face, her eyes tearing. Wells wrapped his arms around her.

“The guards are looking for you, Clarke.” Anthony said.

“Why?” Clarke broke away from Wells. 

“Can we give her minute?” Wells asked him.

He shook his head. “Stretching this out will only cost us time.”

“Why are they looking for me?” Clarke repeated.

Well sighed. “Because they found an unregistered woman in your compartment. Which I can see you knew about, since you didn’t ask why Aurora would be looking for a daughter.”

The world spun. Clarke braced herself against the nearest bunk. She’d destroyed an entire family.

“Clarke?” Wells took her hand. “You did the best you could.”

“Wells is right,” Anthony said. “You took her out of there so the guards wouldn’t find her when they searched, right? She’d have been caught either way. We just have to keep you from looking guilty.”

“No.” Clarked pushed herself off the bunk.

“No?” Wells asked.

“Bellamy’s family is still alive, and I have to save them.”

Anthony shook his head. “I admire your tenacity, but since the Council won’t even budge on Bellamy, there’s no way we’ll save all of them.”

“I’ll _make_ them budge.”

“How?” Wells asked.

Clarke drew in a breath. What could she do that they couldn’t ignore? The argument between her parents came back to her. “I’ll threaten to go public with something they _really_ don’t want everyone to know. But to do that, I’ll need to access to the public intercom. Can you arrange that?”

Anthony frowned, thinking for a moment. Then he nodded slowly. “It’ll be tough, but… I know someone who’s real good with tech. She wouldn’t want to see Bellamy get floated, especially not as some power play by Sydney.”

“Good. You’d better contact her,” Clarke said. “We need to do this now.”

“Wait.” Wells put up his hand. “Clarke, not even you and I can just threaten the Council and walk away. Even if you wring concessions out of them now, they’ll find a reason to float you later.”

“I’m willing to take that risk.”

Anthony smiled. “I wish it wasn’t too late to recruit you into the Opposition. Let’s get this done.”

* * *

Anthony’s tech friend was a lanky woman with long, brown ponytail and a no-nonsense expression. She didn’t bother to introduce herself to Clarke, she just ushered her quickly into a small communications room on Mir Station. 

“They’ll figure out the source of your signal in a few minutes,” she told Clarke. “Then in another five or so minutes, they’ll be able to cut you off, even if the guards haven’t broken down the door by then.”

“I guess I’d better get concessions from them quickly.”

“If you’re really going to do this.” The woman raised her eyebrows.

“I am.”

She graced Clarke with a wry smile and hit her playfully on the shoulder. “You’re my kind of stubborn. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Clarke said as she shut the door and slid the bolts into place. “I’ll need it.”

Clarke picked up the radio she brought into the room with her. Since she’d have so little time once she started using the intercom, her only hope was to establish a line of communication with the Council beforehand.

She pressed the radio button. “This is Clarke Griffin. I need to speak with my mother, Dr. Abigail Griffin.”

Static came through the radio, and then someone picked up. “Clarke Griffin, you are not authorized to be on this channel.”

“This is an _emergency._ Please put Dr. Griffin on immediately.”

“You need to use the emergency channel to report -”

Silence.

“Clarke?” Her mother’s voice called over the radio.

“Mom.” Clarke smiled.

“Are you okay? You need to come in so we can sort everything out.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. That’s not why I’m calling. I need to speak to Chancellor Jaha. Can you put him on?”

“If you turn yourself in, I’ll see if I can get him to come see you, but you can’t just call on the command line and ask for him, Sweetie.”

“Hold on a sec.”

Clarke drew in a shaking breath. Her mother needed a demonstration. Now was the point of no return. If Anthony’s friend was right, in less than ten minutes she would either have concessions or she would be on death row. She turned on the Ark-wide intercom.

“People of the Ark, this is Clarke Griffin, daughter of Chief Engineering Officer Jake Griffin and Chief Medical Officer Abigail Griffin.”

“Clarke?” Her mother said frantically over the radio. “What are you doing?!”

Clarke ignored her and continued on the intercom. “The Council has been keeping something very important from you.”

“Clarke, stop. Please, _please!_ ”

Clarke turned off the intercom and picked up the radio. “Put Chancellor Jaha on. He’s the only one who can stop me.”

“Jaha’s coming, just don’t do anything rash.”

Clarke waited and the seconds ticked by, counting down the time she had to use the intercom.

“Hello Clarke,” Jaha finally said over the radio. “I have to say, I’m disappointed in you. When we were planning our peace offering to the opposition, Abby was so sure you wouldn’t be easy for your partner to manipulate.”

“That’s _not_ what’s happening.”

“Isn’t it? You’ve been together for less than two weeks, Clarke. That isn’t love. Don’t let him use you this way.”

“He is _not -”_ Clarke stopped herself. This interaction felt strangely familiar. Bellamy had used similar attacks to bait her when they’d first met, and she’d fallen for them, too. “No more delay tactics, we have business to discuss. If you don’t want me to tell the entire Ark that they could be in for a culling, you’ll pardon myself, Bellamy, his sister, and his mother.”

“That’s impossible. For one thing, his mother’s dead.”

“ _Dead?_ You floated her already? That’s not justice!”

“We didn’t float her. She was critically injured during her arrest, and because of her likely death sentence, Abby made the call that our limited medical resources should be saved for other patients.”

Clarke drew in a breath and let it out. She didn’t have time to fight that injustice now. “Then you need to pardon Bellamy, Octavia, and myself.”

“That’s not going to happen, even if it means you’ll spill every Council secret over the intercom. I’ll already have to do damage control on what you’ve said so far, and if I pardon a known saboteur, soon I’ll get threats like these every day. You can’t save Bellamy, Clarke. The best I can do is offer a pardon for Octavia since she’s underage and arguably innocent, and one to you to hijacking the intercom, since it’s a more minor crime.”

“There has to be something you can do other than float him.”

“He’s over eighteen, and he broke the law.”

Clarke heard the heavy tromp of boots coming down the hall. The guard was here already? “Tell the guard to back off.”

“What do you mean? I don’t -”

Clarke flipped on the intercom. “People of the Ark, what the Council hasn’t told you is that key systems -”

“They’re backing off. You don’t need to do that, just talk to me.”

Clarke turned off the intercom, brought the radio back to her mouth, and paused. What else could she suggest? Jaha wouldn’t pardon Bellamy. There _had_ to be a way to save him. 

“Are you there?” Jaha asked.

“I’m here.”

“I don’t want to you to float, Clarke, but pardoning you is going to look like nepotism. I can’t do it unless you agree to my terms and surrender right now.”

Clarke wracked her brain. Jaha wouldn’t pardon Bellamy because it would look bad and encourage others to do what she was doing. Was there a compromise that would allow him and the Council to save face? Not likely. With a culling soon, sparing the life of a saboteur would look especially bad… but her mother said the culling wasn’t for certain. She said they were investigating _alternatives._

“Clarke, this is your last chance.”

What alternatives could there possibly be? They didn’t have the equipment for cryosleep chambers, especially not in the quantity that would be needed. If there were too many people to survive on the station, and those people wouldn’t be floated, then…

The ground.

“I’m sorry, Clarke, but -”

“Send us to the ground!”

“What?”

“Send us the three of us to the ground. I know you’re working on it to avoid a culling.”

Silence. 

“Jaha?”

“That’s a likely death sentence.” Jaha finally answered. “Are you sure?”

“You wouldn’t be trying it if there wasn’t a chance we could survive. Promise that all three of us will be on a ship down together, and that the survivors will all be pardoned, and you have yourself a deal.”

“Very well. I promise.”

* * *

Clarke’s tears fell onto her father’s shoulders as she hugged him goodbye.

“Take care of yourself, kid,” he said. “No more reckless moves, okay?”

Clarke pulled away to look him in the eye. “That goes for you, too, Dad. I know you were thinking about spilling the big secret before I almost did.”

He sighed. “I was, but you put a stop to that, since if I tell everyone, Jaha might go back on your deal. But the people deserve to know.”

“They do, and Mom will realize that, you just have to show her what she’s missing.”

“When did you get so wise, huh?” He pinched her cheek. “I’m proud of you.”

He gave her a last hug, and waved as he stepped out of her cell. Then Anthony and Wells were allowed in.

Wells smiled, “my Dad’s still pissed that you managed to blackmail him. But…” his smile faded. “It’s not going to be easy down there. I wish I was going with you.”

Clarke took his hands. “You’re needed up here.”

Anthony wrapped an arm around Wells’ shoulders. “Don’t worry, Clarke, I’m not letting him out of my sight.”

“Thank you. You’ve been great, about everything. Did you get the…?”

Anthony leaned toward her and opened his jack a little to show her the old graphing calculator full of the voting data Bellamy had collected, tucked into an inner pocket. He said in a whisper. “There’s good stuff on here, and everyone is suspicious about how Bellamy was caught. I won’t have any trouble convincing the other leaders it’s time for Sydney to go.”

“Good.” Clarke answered quietly. “But if you don’t mind my asking… what will you all do about her? Bellamy said if she’s arrested, she could rat everyone out to the Council, and she probably has more dirt she can use against some of you…”

“Accidents happen, Clarke. Mechanical failures, that sort of thing. They can be very dangerous.”

“Oh.”

Wells gave Anthony a look. “I did _not_ need to know that.”

“I’m sorry, _snuggle wuggles_.” Anthony pulled him in tighter.

Clarke laughed and pointed at the door. “Get out!” 

* * *

Bellamy was strapped into the drop ship next to Octavia, which was a relief. They’d only just lost their mother, and while he’d been told Octavia would be on the ship with him, this was the first time he’d seen her since he’d been arrested. Her eyes were bright and teary as she grabbed his hand, grinning ear to ear.

“You’re okay,” he managed.

“Thanks to Clarke. Who, by the way, thought I was your mistress on the side!”

“Well, I -”

Octavia’s jaw dropped. “You knew. You let her think that!” She pulled her hand away and slugged his arm with it.

“Ow.” Bellamy rubbed the spot. “Look, she figured out there was someone on her own, and of course I couldn’t tell her you’re my sister.”

“Gross, Bell. I’m still thanking every star she didn’t let me get floated.”

“She wouldn’t, she’s not petty like that.” Bellamy looked around the ship, but there was no sign of Clarke yet, just a bunch of underage kids. Some of them, such as Monty, Jasper, Miller, Harper, and unfortunately, Murphy, he recognized from guarding the Skybox. They were all so young, like Octavia. “O… I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you and Mom.”

“I wish Mom was here with us, but it’s not your fault she isn’t. She cautioned us every day to be careful, to keep ourselves safe, and then she just...” Octavia paused, swallowing. Then she wiped her eyes and shot him an impish smile, “Besides, I get to go to the _ground_. I think this trip is the best thing that’s happened to me.”

 _If we don’t die,_ but Bellamy said nothing. He couldn’t ruin the moment for her.

“I know what you’re thinking, Bell,” Octavia said. “I’m not a child anymore.”

“No, but you’re not a seasoned adult either. You’ve met a total of three people in your life, and if we live through the landing, you’re going to be surrounded by criminals.”

“Good thing I’ll have Clarke around to keep me safe.”

“Alright, I deserve that.”

The dropship door opened to bring a few last prisoners in, and there she was. Her clothes were rumpled and strands of her golden hair had escaped from her braid, but she stood straight. A guard pulled her to her seat as her gaze searched the dropship. Bellamy cursed inwardly that she hadn’t been placed next to him. She was being strapped to the opposite wall. 

“Oh hey, there’s Clarke.” Octavia said.

The guard moved away and Clarke finally looked straight across, her expressive blue eyes locking on Bellamy. He grinned and she grinned back, cheeks glowing. He wished he could at least hold her hand as they descended, but this would have to be enough.

_“Helllloooooo.”_

Bellamy brought himself out of it and looked to Octavia. “Sorry, what?”

Octavia snorted. “Nevermind. If you want to spend what could be your last moments staring longingly into her eyes, I’m not gonna stop you.”

“O, I’m not staring _longingly_ into her eyes, I’m… okay, I’m staring longingly into her eyes.”

“The first step is admitting you have a problem.”

He turned back to Clarke again, and this time she seemed to be watching him and Octavia fondly.

The doors were sealed, and the ship launched. It shook as it hit the atmosphere. A video of Jaha came on, saying the normal Chancellor bullshit. Bellamy paid no attention, his eyes were still locked on Clarke. They were still too far away to talk to each other, but he stuck out his tongue and crossed his eyes. She laughed and responded by sucking in her cheeks and puckering her lips into what looked like a pigs snout.

The drop ship shook harder and the lights flickered. The playful expression left her face, replaced by wide-eyed terror.

 _I love you,_ he mouthed.

Even the sparks falling from the ceiling didn’t stop her smile. _I love you, too,_ she mouthed back. 

The ship went dark as a boom deafened them. Then the engines died down, and the lights came back on. Their seats clicked as the safety restraints were released. Bellamy unclasped his seat belt and pulled himself free. He couldn’t jump across the gap to where Clarke was, so he raced down to the bottom, weaving through fifty restless kids. 

He spotted her coming down the other side, and then she was in his arms. He picked her up and spun her around.

She yelped. “Bellamy, there’s no space! You’ll send me flying into someone.” 

“Would I do that, Princess?”

“You might.” Something behind Bellamy caught her eye. “Wait, don’t open the door! The air could be toxic.”

Clarke broke free and ran to the door control, trying to get through a mob of kids.

“Hey, just back it up, guys.” Bellamy used his guard voice and they automatically complied, allowing him to get to the door. He leaned in toward Clarke. “If the air’s toxic, we’re dead anyway.”

She sighed. “You’re right, we might as well see the ground.”

“Octavia?” Bellamy found his sister pushing through the crowd toward them. “How would you like to be the first person on the ground in 100 years?”

“Hell yeah.”

Bellamy grabbed the lever to open the door. He caught Clarke’s eye, and she nodded. He pulled it.

The door hissed, and bright light flooded into the dropship. He blinked as his eyes adjusted and felt a sweet breeze from the ground wash over him. 

Before him, Octavia drew in a deep breath and cautiously walked down the ramp. She paused, and then jumped on the dirt. Raising her arms, she yelled, “We’re back, bitches!”

Clarke looked at Bellamy. “We’re back, bitches?”

“She been living under the floor her whole life, give her some time.” 

Bellamy held out his hand, and Clarke smiled and took it. They walked down the ramp together, heading toward a wooded landscape that seemed impossibly green. 

Around them, the kids from the ship ran out and raced around.

“Hey,” said one of the kids. “Aren’t you one of those political matches? You don’t hate each other?”

“Sure we do, I just like to grab and hold people I hate.” Bellamy grabbed Clarke and tickled her. She yelped and struck back.

“Yeah, why would you hate her,” Murphy said sarcastically as he came down the ramp. “Her people have only been killing our people for generations.”

Bellamy straightened. “Hey everyone!” he called out.

The kids around them paused and looked in his direction.

He took Clarke’s hand. “We’re not on the Ark anymore. There’s no _our people_ , and no _their people_. Here on the ground, there’s just us. The 100!”

Everyone whooped and hollered.

Clarke took his face in her hands, and pulled him down for a kiss.


End file.
